


Bonding for Beginners

by Ember



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Bonding, M/M, Mating, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mystery, Romance, Sentinel AU, eventual explicit sex, inspired by Chameleon, possessive, sentinel verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember/pseuds/Ember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles’ parents had the happiest, gushiest, a-typical connection that you could hope to hear about. They had met in an interview and within that month they had bonded. Just like that, they had instantly known that they were going to love one another. A lot of people gave them flack for being too quick, but when you felt a connection, you felt a connection, or so they always told Stiles. And from that day on the Stilinskis were the happiest pair of bondmates you would ever hope to find in Beacon Hills, and when Sentinel Stilinski became Papa Stilinksi, and then only a few years after that Sheriff Stilinski, his bondmate was always there to guide him along his way. His loving wife and the beautiful mother to his son. And after her death he would never be the same again, the emotional wound too jagged to fit another Guide within his life, like a puzzle piece with only one other matching cut-out, now gone forever.</i>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <i>Was it too much that Stiles wanted the same?</i>
</p><p>+++</p><p>Sentinel AU where Stiles is a Guide looking for real connection, and Derek is a Sentinel forced to get a Guide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Chameleon](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/20136) by Velvet_Mace. 



> This is a Sentinel AU, which is a verse that I'm going to try to explain within the fic. It's basically entirely inspired by [Velvet_Mace's Chameleon](http://velvet-mace.livejournal.com/340223.html), which is a great fic with Johnlock and is also set in the Sentinel Verse. I basically completely took inspiration from her world building and applied it to Teen Wolf.
> 
> WARNING: Chameleon is a WIP, and has not been updated in over a year! It's really fucking good but does leave off on a really annoying cliffhanger, so just be prepared for that if you want to go and read it.
> 
> If you are in any way okay with reading Johnlock, even if it's not exactly your cuppa, I highly recommend it! Please tell me if there's anything confusing about my world build up, and I'll try to explain it ^^
> 
> Now with fanart by [Reborn-gp](http://reborn-gp.tumblr.com/post/66717163948/stiles-parents-had-the-happiest-gushiest)!
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles’ parents had the happiest, gushiest, a-typical connection that you could hope to hear about. They had met in an interview and within that month they had bonded. Just like that, they had instantly known that they were going to love one another. A lot of people gave them flack for being too quick, but when you felt a connection, you felt a connection, or so they always told Stiles. And from that day on the Stilinskis were the happiest pair of bondmates you would ever hope to find in Beacon Hills, and when Sentinel Stilinski became Papa Stilinksi, and then only a few years after that Sheriff Stilinski, his bondmate was always there to guide him along his way. His loving wife and the beautiful mother to his son. And after her death he would never be the same again, the emotional wound too jagged to fit another Guide within his life, like a puzzle piece with only one other matching cut-out, now gone forever.

Was it too much that Stiles wanted the same? Okay, when he was younger he was expecting to be the Sentinel in the scenario, but it wasn’t too surprising he turned out to be a Guide. After all, he was the one that always kept a cool head, who always thought things through and came up with a plan. He couldn’t even count the times he had to pick up the pieces of Scott and put it back together, his comforting words like crazy glue. And it wasn’t even that big of a deal that Scott got to be a Sentinel and he didn’t, that Scott got the crazy senses and the superhero abilities, it really wasn’t.

Okay, Stiles had to admit. Sometimes, even a year after the fact, it still sometimes stung. 

But at moments like those, weak ones where could do nothing but pity himself, he would remember the way that Scott had screamed that first day. How he couldn’t open his eyes because the sunlight burned like citrus, how he had shoved his hands against his ears because the noises were so loud it felt like his head was going to rip apart. Being a Sentinel had its downsides, from zoning to berserking, and Stiles was kind of glad he never had to deal with that, ADHD was bad enough for his concentration, no thank you. And besides, Stiles’ mom was a Guide, and she was one of the coolest, most badass people ever. There was no way he could feel too sorry for too long being what she was. He only wished she could be there to tell him how to deal with it.

Because there were definite downsides to being what he was, and the whole epidemic of there not being enough Guides for the current Sentinel population was definitely the root of just about all of them. Isolation was just about as fun as it sounded. The fact that Stiles could only have physical contact with Guides and Normals was bad enough, but it was particularly vexing that both his own father and his best friend were cut from that list, which was just total bullshit. Like either would ever attempt to bond with him, ew. But rules were rules, even when they absolutely sucked.

The only time he could come face to face with an unbonded Sentinel was when he was being interviewed, and even that was with a chaperone Guide. Not that _that_ ever went well. He’d even been scheduled to meet with Scott, which was really bizarre but nice to be able to see him in person again (they frequently texted, messaged, and video called of course) even if that bond was never going to happen. Lydia had been a wet dream in heels, but it only took Stiles a minute or two to realize he was so far beneath her that she would need a microscope to see him. Erica, another one of those rare females that only made up 5% of the Sentinel population, had been somewhat flirty, but hope was lost as soon as Boyd came to the Tower. Which was a double whammy, because he had hoped to become friends with the guy, but Guides always moved in with their Sentinels once they were bonded. And thus to another part of the Tower.

Well, they weren’t in a tower exactly. In 2001 after the attack on the New York Towers the government had gotten a bit paranoid about their youngest generation of Sentinel and Guides, and so had begun constructing schools in little out of the way places that were less likely to be the focus of attacks. Which is why Stiles dad had been located as the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, normally a paygrade far below that of an active Sentinel. But the Tower still included all the bells and whistles, spas and work out rooms, honeymoon suites, and of course a special section just for unbonded Guides. And no matter how comfortable it was, a prison was still a prison.

Of course Stiles understood the need for such a thing. Unbonded Guides were like catnip to Sentinels, and it only took a whiff of someone compatible to set them off. So, really, the best thing to do was to just get bonded. Problem solved. Find a nice Sentinel, move in with him or her (though most likely him, and Stiles was well enough into his sexual crisis to know that, like most Guides, he was pretty okay with that) and get the protection to go out into the real world. No more Rapunzel shit in the cruddy Beacon Hills Tower. But of course, Stiles being Stiles, he just could not bond. He never once, no matter who he interviewed with, no matter how hard he tried, felt that spark that his parents had so often talked about. He never felt like anyone was _the_ one, so why even bother to give it a try?

He just had to keep hoping that his one and only would come soon.

+++

Derek Hale was really not having a great day. Or morning, as it were, because it was currently 5am and he was running on three hours of sleep and two cups of coffee. He fought the urge to slump against the side of the house that he was currently pressed up against, his eyelids feeling like lead and his mouth still tasting of the breakfast sandwich he had crammed down his throat. Bagel, bacon, egg, cheese, and of course the bitter after-wash of coffee. He cataloged them all as he willed himself to calm, for his jittery heartbeat to return to an even rhythm. He gripped his glock, the feel of hard plastic against his calloused fingers calming his breath to an even tempo.

His partner was on the other side of the door, and Derek could hear the sound of his feet crunching against the browning grass as the man shifted his weight nervously. Bloomsburg or Greensfield, whoever it was that Argent had assigned for him this particularly shitty morning, the sky a watery gray as the sun slowly made its appearance. Derek shot the man a glare. He knew the perp was a Normal, but that didn’t mean shit. It didn’t mean they could take any chances with this one, who'd been on L.A.s wanted list for months, a dealer in a ring that had been busted wide open. Sources had just been able to ping to his location, a duplex outside the city limits. Just Derek’s luck that the information had come in so early in the morning, and that he had been the one to take the case.

The living room TV turned on, the cheerful voice of a talk show personality wishing the viewers good morning. Derek closed his eyes to concentrate. Light footsteps against the carpeted floor, moving towards them. Not heavy enough to fit the perps description, but not a child either, probably a woman. Girlfriend most likely. And yes, there it was, humming from a distinctly female voice, a catchy pop tune that was on every radio station Derek skipped past. She opened the fridge to grab something, a container with liquid. Milk most likely, as the next thing she grabbed gave the jiggle of cereal flakes in a cardboard box.

Derek opened his eyes and turned towards his partner, shaking his head. The Normal nodded, understanding that this wasn’t their perp. Derek jerked his head towards the door, indicating that they were going to force their way inside, eliciting a nod in return. Good, the cop wasn’t stupid. Maybe Derek would ask his name when all was said and done.

He waited until the telltale sound of the lock clicking open and the twisting of the door handle before springing in front of the door, and in one quick move he had his hand over the mouth of a frightened woman, painfully skinny and still in her pajamas. He pointed the gun to her head and gave her a look that some of his more friendly co-workers called a death glare and the less friendly ones his bitch face. She trembled beneath his hand but remained quiet, her knees locking together.

“I’m not going to judge who you live with,” he whispered to her, “but I will tell you that I’m not afraid to arrest you for obstruction of the law. You’re living with a very wanted man.” He tightened his grasp on her mouth when she said something in protest. “Shut it. You can plead ignorance all you want, I don’t give a damn. But if you scream I will arrest you. So if you don’t want to end up in the jail cell next to your boyfriend, I suggest you remain quiet.”

He could smell her sweat, that acrid scent of fear rolling off her skin, mingling with her milk drenched breath and cheap perfume. It was a lie, of course. He was still going to arrest her for abiding with a criminal, but it was for the courts to decide if she was innocent. He did not need her messing with his operation right now. He motioned for his partner to take her, and as soon as he let go of her mouth she gave a wretched, warbling scream.

God _damn_ it. Derek threw her to his partner and took off like a shot, racing up the stairs which creaked and moaned from the action, the handrail a flimsy iron that would probably fall apart in his hands. He tried to focus on the upstairs, and cursed under his breath as he heard a window slide open. The perp was definitely awake then, and given that the house had a wooden awning in front of the bedroom window did not bode well. Derek slammed open the door just to see the man jumping onto the ground, his wife beater stained a nasty yellow and his boxers an obnoxious red. But Derek had caught his scent, the overwhelming smell of nicotine which lay over sweat, aftershave, and some liquor he had spilled on his clothes last night. Derek didn’t even hesitate to dive out the window right after him.

The jumped from the awning to a neighboring bush was jarring, but Derek was in good enough shape that he could land light enough, his ankles protesting the action but his adrenaline pumping high enough that he could barely be bothered with the pain. He took off running down the street, the scent of his prey pulling his instinct like a leash. He only had to obey that urge to run, to seek, to take down. _Prey_ , he thought, a mantra that ran across his mind as he surged forward. _Prey prey prey_.

The perp wasn’t a hard man to catch. Barefooted, just waking up, an extended gut, it was barely a minute before Derek was upon him, crashing into his back. They fell into the pavement, but the man was an eel in his arms, twisting around, hand extended. A sharp gunshot rang across the neighborhood, and Derek felt the hot pain in his upper arm, falling back in painful shock. The man didn’t even blink before he took off again, the gun cradled against his chest, his yellowed shirt splattered with droplets of dark red.

Derek only allowed a moment for himself to be in shock before launching himself upwards and running forward again. He didn’t even bother to place a hand on his wound, the blood pouring down his arm. Instead he clutched his Glock ever tighter, a small thread to the humanity when all he wanted to do was hunt. Chase, catch, kill. To sink his teeth into the man’s jugular and feel the warmth of the blood that gushed forth. He let his senses overwhelm him, the cold pavement beneath him, the smoggy city air before him, the sounds of people shouting surrounding him. He ran forward, pain forgotten, all that drowned in a heated rage.

The perp turned around and lifted his hand for another shot. Derek could see every individual cell of skin, every tiny hair upon his flesh. In one swift motion he raised his own gun to fire, right into the man’s hand, forcing him to drop the gun, staggering back as he cried out in pain. Derek growled as he slammed into the man, forcing him on his back, his skull hitting the sidewalk with a sickening thud. Derek’s hands wrapped so easily around his neck, and the sight of the man’s eyes bulging was so perfect, so right. His stuttering lips as he grasp out, “Okay, I give up! I give up!” But it wasn’t enough. This man had hurt him, and caused him to bleed, had been prey, was still prey. His life was Derek’s to extinguish with large, tight hands. His life was forfeit the moment he decided to fight back.

Later Derek would have argued that he would have let go, eventually. After the man had passed out, after he had been neutralized as a threat. But it was the icy sting of a tranquilizer in Derek’s arm that made him let go, made him slump forward as its toxins flooded his veins. He blinked behind him to see his partner running up, already calling it in. As he fell onto the sidewalk, his body crashing into the coughing, bleeding perp, he saw his wolf standing above him, looking down at him with solemn blue eyes.

+++

“You bonded with _Allison_? She hasn’t even been here for two months!” Stiles shouted into the computer screen, glaring down at Scott’s smugly guilty face. “Dude, not cool! She was my friend, who am I going to hang with now?”

“I can’t help it, it just happened! I can’t explain it, it just- it just felt right, okay?” The stubborn set of Scott’s crooked jaw told Stiles just how not-sorry Scott was for that happening. “I’ve been waiting to bond just as long as you have. I thought you would be happy for me!”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, only to shut it again. A moment ticked by before he started to rub the back of his head with an exasperated sigh. “Look, I am dude, I am. You and Allison are going to be amazing together, I know it.” Even if Stiles had never seen them together, it wasn’t hard to tell they were a good match.

“Yeah. She makes me feel...” Scott looked off towards the corner, his eyes glazing over. “Complete, dude. Totally, utterly complete. Like I never even knew what was missing until I found her.”

Stiles couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that followed the statement. It was just as his parents described their relationship. Inevitable, almost. It was common knowledge that quick bonds tended to be the strongest. It was the unsteady, long courtships that tended to flash hot and cold that were more likely for divorces. And upon that line of thought...

“How are Lydia and Jackson doing? I heard they finally tied the knot.” So to speak, anyway, and not that Stiles actually heard anything, persay, it was just that Jackson hadn’t been in classes in the past few weeks. But he could put two and two together, and it was no big secret that those two had been courting for the past year.

Scott made a face. “Dude, you were so right about that guy. Total douche. Not saying that Lydia is personality of the year, but still, ugh. I don’t know how you put up with him for so long.”

Stiles heart sank just a few inches further. And educated guess as to Jackson’s bonding partner was one thing, but the cold slap of truth that it was Lydia was another thing altogether. Stiles had known that it was never going to happen, but he couldn’t help but keep up the hope that maybe, one day... He had grown out his hair, started wearing some semi-fashionable clothes. Even worked out, turning his straggly frame into a lean one. But really, who could compete with Jackson? The guy wasn’t so far off when he made the claim that he was everyone’s type.

“I’m guessing he’s sickeningly popular already, as always?” Stiles deadpanned. It didn’t matter that Jackson was a shit Guide, no true skill at shielding or guiding. But that just showed what a pretty face can get you in life.

Scott shook his head. “Actually, I don’t think people like him at all. You know, Sentinels are usually really... dominant. And Jackson already wants to try out for Lacrosse, bragging how he’s going to make captain by next year. And everyone’s wondering why we can never see his animal. It’s not like he’s Deaton or something, he’s not nearly mysterious enough to pull that off.”

Stiles smirked. “It’s a snake, dude. We had to tell the class when we introduced ourselves. And you probably can’t see it because he has a really hard time manifesting it. He’s a pretty shitty Guide, truth be told.”

And the pairing did make a bizarre sort of sense. Both snakes and foxes, Lydia’s animal, were known for cunning and deceit. It once again brought up the question of if spirit animals were manifestations of ones personality. It was well known that families tended to pass down animals, but didn’t families also tend to pass down personality traits? And it was never a sure fire way to know who would be a good bond for who. After all, what did Allison’s hawk and Scott’s coyote really have in common, other than the fact that they would look cool together? And none of the research that Stiles had come upon had helped him shed some light on his own animal, that was for sure. At least nothing that he wanted to admit. Okay, perhaps there were some things he had in common with it. Like twitchiness and energy, long term commitment and planning ahead.

“I almost punched him in the face the other day,” Scott admitted. “Maybe that’s why the higher ups decided to go ahead and let me and Allison bond, so she could keep me under control.”

Stiles whistled. There wasn’t much people could do to get his mellow friend riled up. “What did he do?”

“Eh, well, it’s stupid.”

“Come on dude, you have to tell me what he did! Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Well...” Scott scratched the back of his neck. “He kept calling you Squirlinski.”

It took a moment for Stiles to remember how to talk. “What?” he squeaked out.

“I mean, I know you’re kinda sensitive about your animal and all. Not that you should be! Squirrels are awesome dude, I love squirrels, it’s just... the way he said it, you know? Like you were- well, just douchy in general-” Scott’s head perked up and he looked to the side. “Oh shit, I think Allison’s waking up.” And judging by how happy Scott was by that fact, it seemed that the bonding ritual was still very much ago. “I gotta go dude. Bye!”

“Wait, Scott, you can’t just-”

But it was too late as Scott signed off without another word. Stiles felt a nauseating mixture of contempt and jealousy. Of course he was proud of his friend for finally bonding, but that didn’t make the taste in his mouth any less bitter. And even if their animals had nothing to do with who they bonded with, Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how many interviews had gone south as soon as the Sentinel caught sight of Stiles’ squirrel, darting about the room. Stiles had a hard enough time making himself stay still for minutes at a time, much less his bizarro animal extension.

It would definitely take a Sentinel with a lot of patience to put up with Stiles and his squirrel both. He just had to hope that person would come, and soon. He was giving so sick of this bullshit waiting.

+++

Derek wasn’t, at the best of times, a patient man. He could fake it as well as the rest of the adult world, but to be honest he was more of an on the move type of guy. He could sit for hours during a stakeout without a stray thought, he could read files all afternoon for a case he had been assigned, but in truth as long as he had a purpose, he had the will. It was not knowing that really ate him up inside. And as he sat outside of Argent’s office, his arm in a sling even though the bullet had barely grazed his bicep (really, he had worst, his body was covered in scars of battles past), all he had to do was sit and stew about what sort of punishment he was going to have for losing control. Again. Damn, he was ashamed to admit it, but it was starting to be a regular occurrence for him now.

“You can come in now, Hale,” he heard the deceptively chipper voice calling from the office.

Derek steeled his nerves and walked in. Victoria Argent was not, at the best of times, a friendly figure. She was chief of police and head Sentinel of the L.A. police department, and there was no one who could even insinuate that she got the position anyway than fighting tooth and nail for it. She was the whip of the office, and Derek could easily imagining her killing anyone who got in her way. Perhaps slowly. A poison, maybe airborne, watching and smiling as her victim died.

“Sentinel Hale, so nice of you to join me today.” Argent’s perfectly applied lipstick and eye crinkles did nothing to hide her predatory smile. It was hard that this woman, who seemed more steel than flesh at times, was actually a mother. Derek couldn’t even imagine what evil spawn she had birthed. “Please, take a seat.”

Derek stiffly sat down. This was Argent’s usual M.O., a kind smile, an invitation to relax. Sometimes she even brought cookies into the office. But only the most novice of rookies fell for that act, and they quickly learned.

Argent glanced down at her case file, tutting softly. “Another case of losing control, hmm? I thought we already went over this, Sentinel Hale. Have you been taking your Guenidine like a good boy?” She didn’t look up when she said this, but there was something in her flat voice that showed that it wasn’t really a question. More of an accusation.

An accusation that Derek really couldn’t argue against. “I was called early in the morning to go immediately to an assignment, and the after effects of the drug don’t allow me to have full access to my senses until the affects ease after a full hour.” He made sure his tone was professional, emotionless. This was an explanation, not an excuse.

At that Argent did look up, and her eyes slanted just slightly. “It also keeps you from tearing out perps throats, apparently.” She gathered the files and evened them out with loud, distinct taps against her desk. “One time of this happening I could look past, perhaps even two. But this is your third strike, Hale. Tell me, you watch baseball I’m sure. What happens after the third strike?”

Derek clenched his fist, losing his cool long enough to bark out, “You can’t take me off the force! I already have cases that are undergoing investigation-”

“Which you will debrief whoever I assign those cases to.” Argent raised a meticulously plucked eyebrow. “Do not argue with me, Sentinel Hale. This is not a negotiation, this is a judgement call. You’re too dangerous to be out in the field.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Are you going to tie me to a desk job?” Derek had to hold back his growl. “I’m one of your best agents, and don’t bullshit me Argent, I know it.”

Argent sighed. “You’re right, you are. And I cannot discount that. So I’m going to give you two options, because I’m feeling particularly nice this morning.” She opened up her desk drawer and pulled out a pamphlet, dropping it onto the desk with an ominous plop. “You get yourself a Guide and I give you back your badge. Otherwise you _will_ be given a desk job, before you get someone killed. Including yourself.”

Derek looked at the pamphlet with dread. It read in cheerful print, _Beacon Hills Tower: Your New Guide and You_. Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He had planned to never find another Guide, not after what Kate had done, but that wasn’t possible now. He knew that no precinct would take him in with his history of losing control, not to mention his even more frequent history of zoning, a lapse where a Sentinel was so overcome with sensory information that they would go into a hypnotized state of unresponsiveness. He had always had people to help him snap out of it, someone with a dose of Guenidine to get him back to his senses, but that wasn’t always going to be the case._

Ms. Morrell had her hands perfectly laid upon lap, her eyes almost languid and her soft smile serene. Her voice was perfectly balanced, perfectly calming, and it was almost surprising that she wasn’t a Guide, simply a Norm who was very good at her job. “Do you feel that you are undesirable to a Sentinel?”

In direct contrast to the guidance counselor, Stiles was a flurry of movement. His hands kept on tapping the chair arms, his teeth kept on biting on his lower lip, his eyes kept on flicking back and forth. He just wasn’t one to remain seated sometimes, though he tried to not lean back too much, tried to not seem disinterested. Even if he was somewhat annoyed that the Tower made it mandatory for all unbonded Guides to have sessions once a month.

“What? No,” he retorted, his whole body surging forward. “No, not like that. I just mean I don’t know if I am, you know, easily made compatible. Maybe I’m just like, one in a million and I can’t find the missing one in a million that wants to bond with me. Does that make sense?”

“Well, Stiles, you’ve had plenty of offers for follow up interviews.” She shuffled the papers on her lap, glancing down on what had to be a list of Stiles’ many interviews and their results. “You’ve denied each of them. So I would have to say that those Sentinels felt some compatibilities.”

He waved a flippant hand. “Yeah, but I don’t know. It just didn’t click. Bam! It’s suppose to just click, right? That’s how all the best matches are made. But it never does. I just get a feeling that a lot of those Sentinels were desperate to get _anyone_ , and they probably asked a bunch of other Guides for second interviews. And my, uh...” Stiles bit the inside of his cheek.

“Yes? Is there some other reason you didn’t accept a second interview with the interested parties?” Ms. Morrell waited for Stiles to speak, and only continued when it was obvious he was too embarrassed to continue. “Many great bonds have come from long courtships. It’s not just a biological connection, it’s an emotional one too. This is someone who you may spend the rest of your life with.” She gave another soothing smile. “Best not to rush in.”

Stiles scowled. “I know that! And trust me, I want that. I just want to bond and be happy, because everyone always seems really happy after they bond, but I’m not going to be stupid about it and jump the first Sentinel who offers. I’m playing it safe.”

Her smile didn't waver. “Yes, but perhaps a bit too safe. Perhaps not accepting a second interview is a sign of something else. Something more than not feeling a ‘click’ as you call it.”

“What, like I’m scared of rejection?” Stiles gave a hollow laugh. “Look, I know the rates out there. I know that any Sentinel over twenty is just about going out of their mind looking for a Guide to bond with. And Guenidine can only cut it so far, I know the side effects it has. I think rejection is the least of my worries.” Lydia didn’t count. There were so few female Sentinels that male Guides were usually clamoring to get their attention. Lydia was definitely something special.

Ms. Morrell shook her head. “I can’t tell you what you’re feeling, Stiles. You’re going to have to find that out yourself. I just hope that you know that I’m here to listen and help, should you want it.”

Damn, Stiles knew that. There was no need to get mad at Ms. Morrell, who only wanted to do her job, and at least was nice enough to not be a jerk about it. She was someone that Stiles, over time, had learned to somewhat trust. And why was he afraid she would laugh? She had never laughed at him before. And she knew that Guides and Norms had different worries about life, had different things to consider.

So with only a little hesitation, he decided to tell her the truth. “Okay, well, the truth is... it’s my squirrel.”

“Your spirit guide, correct? I am unable to see them, as you know.” She tilted her head, and for the first time she looked slightly curious.

“Yeah, my spirit guide. It’s a squirrel, so that’s pretty strange in and of itself. I mean, I never heard of someone having such a... well, not weird, but kind of weird, animal. And I know that people judge me when they find out. Oh, look at me, my animal’s a snake, or oh, look at me, my animal’s a freaking lion, and here I am, with a squirrel! I mean, I like my squirrel, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes it’s a bit... embarrassing.”

Stiles avoided glancing over to the desk, where his animal was currently washing its face in frantic motions.

Ms. Morrell nodded. “Understandable. Many Guides and Sentinels feel embarrassment over their animals at times, especially if they’re not common. I’ve had students come to me with concerns over their animals more often than you would think, worrying that they were reflected badly because of it. And because they tend to show with the emergence of powers, they may be hard to accept in such a difficult time in your lives.”

“No, I mean, I accept it! I like my squirrel, they’re kind of bad a- they’re cool. They store nuts for the winter stuff, I like them, they’re survivors. And it’s not like it means I’m any less of a Guide. I think I’m a pretty good Guide.” Not that he had much practice, but in classes he always seemed to keep up okay. “It’s just... I get kind of on edge when Sentinels comment about it, I guess. And... Well... Okay, well, it’s going to sound weird, but I don’t think my squirrel liked any of those Sentinels, and I’m not sure what that means.”

Ms. Morrell blinked rapidly, her neck snapping back just a fraction in surprise. “How do you know your squirrel didn’t like them? Do you feel a connection with it?”

“Not really, no, not like I can talk to it, I’m not Snow White or anything, it’s just... It doesn’t like to come out when they’re around. And sometimes it looks... scared. Of their spirit animals. Like it hides behind the couch and won’t come out. Or it’s completely uninterested and just zips around the room and won’t even stop and notice the other animal.” 

And every time it happened Stiles couldn’t help but take it as a sign that the Sentinel wasn’t meant to be with him, because if his squirrel was an extension of his soul, what did it mean when it didn’t get along with the Sentinels animal? Nothing good, that was for sure. Even Lydia’s fox had gotten no more than a curious stare before the squirrel was dashing about the room again.

Ms. Morrell simply smiled. “Maybe your squirrel just has to get to know them better.”

Stiles sighed, suppressing a groan. He should have known better than to expect a Norm to understand.

+++

“What are you doing?”

Derek didn’t bother turning around as he stuffed another shirt in his suitcase. “Packing. And thanks for knocking before you let yourself in, Sis. Real polite of you.”

“No problem, _Bro_.” Laura walked forward to park herself on his bed with a self-entitled flop. “Besides, I know you could hear me, I didn’t even try to be sneaky. Give me some credit here.” She quirked an eyebrow as Derek grabbed a handful of boxers. “Looks like you’re moving more than packing, sweetie. Care to tell Big Sis where you’re going?”

“Beacon Hills,” he muttered in disgust. “Argent gave me a deadline.”

“Oh, Derek,” Laura muttered softly, her voice losing its playful edge. Derek begrudgingly allowed himself to be yanked down for a hug. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was going to, after I packed.” It was hard to keep his gruff demeanor when Laura was holding him so tenderly, just like their mother used to. “I just wanted to clear my head first.”

Laura allowed him to move back and take a seat beside her on his bed. She bit her lip. “I know you lost control again, but if forcing you to get a Guide really the only answer? I thought the Guenidine was really helping you.”

“You know that shit’s a piss poor substitute for the real thing,” Derek begrudgingly admitted. “And it takes me off my game. I can’t afford to be anything but my best when I’m in the field, you know that. You hated taking it too before you got your Guide.”

Laura twitched a small smile. “Ivan’s the best thing that happened to me, I can’t deny that. But I know how you feel about it.” She stared down at her hands, her jaw clenching in that way that Derek knew meant she was debating whether to bring something up. “Especially after Kate-”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Derek stood up quickly, moving back to his dresser. “She’s in the past, I have to get over her sometime or another. Some Sentinels can control themselves, and I obviously cannot.” His own poisoned words rebounded on him, like a snake biting its own tongue. Still, his tone was firm as he continued, “I’ll be lucky if anyone even wants to bond with me, let’s be honest. And Argent made herself perfectly clear that I’m gonna be chained to a desk if I don’t find one.”

“Any Guide would be lucky to bond with you!” Laura exclaimed, always ready to play the part of encouraging big sister. “You’re handsome, you’re halfway decent to talk to when you’re not in one of your little moods, you have a good job with people who respect you.”

“I go berserk in a split second,” Derek continued, mocking her list. “I’m probably fucked up about relationships beyond all repair, I almost got my entire family-”

“No,” Laura said loudly, standing up. She took Derek by the shoulders and forced him to make eye contact, her hands gripping him tightly. “That’s not your fault, and you know I’ll never blame you for it. Everyone wouldn’t want you to talk this way, okay?” She bit her cheek. “I thought you were... better now.”

Both of them knew there was no way to get better from what happened. A piece of them had died that day, buried in the ash. There was no way to fix that. Laura and told him that getting a Guide helped, that she felt stronger now, more in control. That the nightmares happened less frequently, that she finally felt a little at peace. But how could Derek explain to her that he didn’t deserve that? He didn’t even deserve that small level of comfort.

He had planned to never find another Guide, not after what Kate had done, but that wasn’t possible now. He knew that no precinct would take him in with his history of losing control, not to mention his even more frequent history of zoning, a lapse where a Sentinel was so overcome with sensory information that they would go into a hypnotized state of unresponsiveness. He had always had people to help him snap out of it, someone with a dose of Guenidine to get him back to his senses, but that wasn’t always going to be the case.

And taking the desk job Argent had offered him? Not even on the table. Because the only way that Derek felt he could atone for all he had done, all of the lives that were taken from his stupidity, was to save others. And it would never be enough, there would never be enough black ink to erase all the red that stained his ledger, but it was all he could do. Every kidnapped victim saved, every dangerous perp taken off the streets, that was the only way he could justify his existence in this world.

“It’s fine,” he grunted, even though it was anything but. “I’ll find a Guide or I won’t. That’s just how it has to be.”

Laura clenched her jaw again, before suggesting quietly, “Maybe Peter could help.”

“No.” His voice was absolute. “The man is so broken he can’t even bond again, and-” Derek cut himself short. He didn’t want to argue with Laura that he was the one who did that, that he was the one that caused Peter to be broken beyond repair. “I can’t ask him. And I’m sorry that you’re going to have to look after him alone now, I know it’s not an easy job.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. We usually just go visit him, and I think he’s starting to like Ivan. Peter’s even started to give him some Guide tips. Maybe it’s a good sign, that he’s starting to heal and he can bond again. We just have to find him the right Sentinel.”

It was almost sickening, how chipper Laura tried to sound about it all. Like they could just go out shopping for one, like a pet that had been accidentally set loose and lost. Derek couldn’t just undo what he had done. “Yeah, maybe,” he lied.

Laura gave him a friendly punch and a somewhat forced smile. “ Stop sounding so gloomy about it! You’re going back to our school, isn’t that exciting? You haven’t been there since you graduated. I wonder how much has changed since we were last there... Oh, and before I forget, make sure you visit the girls I am mentoring! Lydia and Erica, two very special ladies. They’ll be downright insulted if I don’t twist your arm enough to say hello.”

Laura was very big on empowerment among female Sentinels, a small population that was often looked down upon. Derek couldn’t name all of the groups she belonged to, one which heralded a “big sister” program where older Sentinel women would mentor younger ones. From what he could remember Lydia was “a genius that is going to take over the world” and Erica was “a tough cookie that could probably beat down a man twice her size,” if Laura’s enthusiastic reports were anything to go by. Derek fully supported his sister’s beliefs, especially since their own mother had been a female Sentinel, and was not a woman to be trifled with. It seemed that the pressure for women Sentinel to perform had them working harder than ever in society, and he found that more were getting powerful positions, Argent being a good example. Or a horrible example, giving Derek’s current opinion of her.

“Fine,” Derek agreed. “I’ll say hello.” And that was probably all he would say. He wasn’t planning on socializing. He was going to get in, interview with whoever was available, and try to get out with a Guide was soon as possible. His very career depended on it.

+++

“It’s not that I don’t believe in a need to help Sentinels and Guides to bond,” Stiles corrected, “but that I don’t believe it’s fair that Guides must be so dependent on that bond to live their day to day lives. I mean, is it really fair that we can’t even pick our own career without our Sentinels permission? Personally, I want to go into law enforcement, but if I somehow end up bonded to an official that shouldn’t mean that my own aspirations should be forced to changed.”

“But what is a Guide for if not to help their Sentinel?” his opponent burst out, a girl with sandy blonde hair who looked like she could be a model for catalogs, not the really fashionable ones but the ones for Sears or something.

“Rachel,” the teacher, a soft spoken older man with a friendly disposition, warned. “You’re supposed to wait until I allow your turn to make a rebuttal. This is a debate, not an argument.”

Rachel muttered an apology and shot Stiles an offended glare, as if it was _his_ fault that she decided to not follow the rules.

“As I was saying,” he continued, holding back the _before I was so rudely interrupted_ , “Guides basic human rights seem to be forfeited more than ever, when we’re living in a country that boasts of freedom and equality.” Stiles paused, trying to control how loud his voice was getting. “Everything a Guide owns automatically becomes his or her Sentinel's, and I believe this is a medieval practice that has no right in a modern context. It’s only been a couple of decades since Guides could even file for a divorce, and even that is frowned upon today. And then after the divorce we’re forced into hiding again until another Sentinel is found, completely disrupting our lives!” He threw his arms into the word, trying to emphasize to the class how this was not up for negotiation, how this was going to affect each and every one of them.

The teacher indicated that Rachel was allowed to speak.

“First off,” she began with a sneer, “I think that my opponent is forgetting that it is a biological instinct for a Sentinel to take care of their Guide.” 

Stiles bit back his retort, not wanting to sink to her level. He would get his chance to speak.

“Furthermore,” she continued, “now is not the time to be demanding ‘rights’ as my opponent calls them, not when the Guide population is lower than ever. As we all know from the devastating effects of World War II, and the subsequent Guide genocide which took place during that time, we are more in need than ever to have a united front with Guides and Sentinels working together. I believe pushing for more independence in our policies are not only unimportant, it could actually hurt us in the long run. If Guides believe that they can be completely independent from Sentinels, it’s not a far jump that they’ll begin to demand that they should be able to not bond, which could be horrible effects on the Sentinel population which is already suffering from increased depression and suicide rates as is.”

Stiles couldn’t believe that a fellow Guide was actually spouting this nonsense, using pathos instead of logos and ethos, which seemed to support him 100%. He waited for the teacher to indicate that it was his turn to speak.

“If my opponent is not afraid to talk about biological tendencies, I would like to bring up that it is also an urge for Guides to find a Sentinel to bond with,” he began with. Just for starters. “The only reason I would argue that Guides try to run from the system is that they believe that their basic human rights will be taken away from them, and they’re definitely not wrong for believing that. If anything, giving more rights to Guides will ensure that more of them will be okay to concede to a bond.” Logic, Stiles had it, and that made him calm, made his voice nice and even. If there was one thing he could do, it was research. “And I for one believe that if we look at the statistical facts we can find that other countries that have adopted these policies are far better for it. I’ve heard to Guides running _to_ Canada because of their liberal Guide policies, and have yet to find one report that showed detrimental effects of these policies in reserve to their Sentinel population.”

The class period was coming to an end, and it was time for Rachel to make her last statement. “We can’t just say that because Canada did it, it would work here! Canada and America are two very different countries.” Debatable. “We don’t know how such radical policies would affect our country!” Debatable. “Our system at the moment is working just fine, and I for one do not want to mess with a good thing.” Complete and utter bullshit.

It was Stiles’ turn, and he faced the class before him as he spoke, trying to focus on the ones that looked attentive and not the ones texting beneath their desks or struggling to stay awake. “As we’re all Guides here, I think that I speak for all of us when I say how scary it is that I’m being punished for who I am. I don’t believe that anyone should be, no matter what race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation you have, and I don’t believe that being a Guide is any different from that.” He closed his eyes, wondering if he should add some personal experience in there. He opened them, knowing that he was sure plenty in the class could relate. “Personally I haven’t been able to see my Dad in the year I’ve been here because he’s an unbonded Sentinel, even though he would never try to bond with me, ew he’s my dad, because of the Draconian laws that are still in effect. I won’t be able to see him until I’m bonded, and that’s really hard on me.”

And there, he got the attention of a few more classmates, those going through the same thing, and those that felt for a fellow Guide. He could feel their sympathy towards him, his empathy picking it up with their crinkling eyes and soft frowns. It gave him courage to go.

“I know there are differences between unbonded Sentinels and unbonded Guides, but that doesn’t mean we have to be okay with what the law says we should do. Sentinels have medical advancements all the time to suppress their lack of Guides, why shouldn’t Guides have something that helps us fit into society? I’m sure there could be some sort of suppressant made so that we wouldn’t have to worry about our scent, or the way we affect unbonded Sentinels. And then we could bond when we chose to, with who we chose to, instead of being pressured by society to do so as soon as possible, before we even know what we want out of life, much less out of a relationship that’s supposed to last our whole lives!”

A surge of agreement came up to meet him, students nodding their heads or even just giving him intense looks. Yes, this is what it felt like, to start something. And hey, maybe it was just this classroom, maybe it was just these few students, but if Stiles could get out there maybe he could inspire more people, maybe he could make a difference. If he was able to wake up a sleepy first period class of high school students, maybe he had half a chance at waking up America.

Rachel simply continued to glare, her resentment obvious. Well, you couldn't win over everyone.

+++

“I’m sure the school hasn’t changed too much since you’ve graduated.” Guide Deaton still had that painfully upbeat and calm voice that all adult Guides seemed to adapt. A tone that was too nice to be condescending, but it still felt condescending, as if every Sentinel was a temperamental child that had to be placated. “Have you been able to find lodgings?”

Derek nodded stiffly. He hadn’t particularly liked Deaton back in his school days, and he didn’t particularly like the man now. The Guide just seemed too... secretive. Derek still wasn’t sure of the man’s animal. It had been somewhat of an urban legend in his school days. Some people had claimed it was a unicorn or a dragon or something so bizarre that no one could see it. Others said that it was an animal at all, but rather a person, a ghost that haunted the school. Derek was more on the wagon with the idea that was something particularly stupid and mundane, like a chihuahua, and that Deaton hid it to avoid embarrassment.

“Good,” Deaton said with one of his signature calm smiles. “I hope that you understand the school’s policy of not housing unbonded Sentinels who are not students. We can’t afford to take too many liabilities.” They stopped in front of what Derek remembered to be the cafeteria, the food smelling as bland as ever, specifically made for sensitive, just turned Sentinel tongues. “You are, of course, welcome to use the more public areas of the Tower. It’s best to get acquainted with the students if you do decide to bond.”

Derek bristled at that. He knew that it was only logical that he would be expected to stay in the Tower until the time that his Guide graduated, but it still hit a wrong chord with him. He’d have to basically put his life on hold for however long it took, either getting a temporary job within the tower or with the local law enforcement. It was why Towers tended to try to get students to bond with each other, creating lasting bonds that could be cemented under watchful eyes.

“I understand the need,” was all he said. And he did, there was no way he was going to deny a kid his or her high school education. Hell, he was even okay with the Guide going to college, if that’s what they wanted. Better that they weren’t in Derek’s hair for a few years anyway. And he wasn’t about to buy into this bullshit that he was going to have some biological urge to be with them at all times. Derek was a private man who needed his own space.

“Good!” Deaton clapped his hands together. “We’ve already scheduled you a few interviews with some Guides that our matchmakers have personally selected, though I’m sure you read that all in the brochure. The front desk will be giving you a timetable and you can start interviewing by this Saturday. We don’t allow students to interview during the school week.”

Derek had read this all in the brochure, a wincingly cheerful explanation of what he could expect. He’d have the chance to interview with every unbonded Guide in the Tower, starting with those that ‘highly professional matchmakers’ would hand select just for him. The process, given that the interviews tended to last half an hour and were only held on weekends, could take up to a few weeks. He would then be able to request a second interview, which then had to be confirmed by the Guide, in which case he could choose to pursue a courtship. Pretty standard, all in all.

The school was still the same as ever, a sprawling facility with white-wash tiles and cream colored walls. The grounds outside of it were perfectly manicured, with plenty of sports fields and colorful flowers that glowed in the springtime sun. The personal dorms were all shielded against outside sounds and smells, cool down rooms ready for a more sensitive student at a moments notice, a barrage of older Guides and Sentinels to teach the students. Spas and pools and lounges that even the most up to date colleges would be envious of. There was no cost spared for the best and brightest of America, future police officers, officials and soldiers.

So this was the plan. Get a Guide to bond with him, hopefully a senior so he was only stuck here for a few months rather than over a year, and then get back home. Set the kid up in a college somewhere, get back on the force, and not deal with whatever bullshit Guides presented for at least another four years. By that time hopefully Derek would be in control enough that they could live fairly separate lives, maybe even in separate apartments. The Guide would join Derek on the force and they would be partners, nothing more, just simple co-workers who helped each other do their jobs.

Derek was not here looking for love, or a soulmate, or whatever crap the brochures had tried to sprout. He was going to get a police partner, nothing more. They just had to fuck once to cement the bond, right? No one really accepted platonic bonds anymore, much to Derek’s dismay. They would bond, Derek would explain the situation, and nothing more. He just had to hope there was a Guide who was smart enough to see the benefits of that, not some lovelorn fool who wanted the picture perfect bond that their parents had probably bullshited about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The history of the the Sentinel verse has all be taken from Velvet-Mace's AU, and will be further explained in another chapter if you're curious!
> 
> I'm also part of an AO3 author's auction! You can find me [here](http://ao3auction.tumblr.com/ember) and bid on me to write you a personal story based on whatever prompt you want!
> 
> And, as always, nothing makes me write faster than comments, questions, suggestions and edits <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The chaperone Guide smiled brightly. “Oh! You two know each other? Isn’t that exciting.”_

It wasn’t like anyone _told_ Stiles who he was going to meet for his interviews. They came in spurts, some weekends running completely dry, other weekends flooding him with back to back meetings. Stiles wasn’t sure there were seasons or anything, but this weekend seemed pretty atypical. A few today, a few tomorrow, and probably all ending in rejection. But he had absolutely no idea who he would meet, their age or gender or anything, because the Tower’s Matchmaker apparently didn’t think that was necessary.

So, it was a complete and utter surprise when Derek Hale walked through the door.

The Hales were somewhat of a legend, though more infamous than anything. A majority of the family had died in a house fire six years back. It was the hottest town gossip that could be found in sleepy Beacon Hills, basically everyone knew about it. Sentinel Talia Hale had been the sheriff before Stiles’ father, and it was her death that lead to his promotion. The Hale and Stilinski family had been close, and Stiles had taken the fire pretty bad, but not nearly as bad as Laura and Derek did. Laura had graduated a few months afterwards and then obtain legal guardianship of her brother, moving them both to New York.

“Hey,” Stiles said, eyes wide in surprise.

“Hey,” Derek said back, halting his movement forward as soon as he saw who Stiles was. He was standing stiffly at the doorway. “I didn’t know you became a Guide.”

The chaperone Guide smiled brightly. “Oh! You two know each other? Isn’t that exciting.” She was an elderly woman with a sweet disposition (most elderly Guides had a pretty sweet disposition, Stiles wasn’t going to lie) and she had chaperoned with Stiles before. “Is he another one of your friends? Isn’t it funny how often that happens to you?” She crinkled her nose with a smile.

Stiles tried to plaster on a smile of his own, but it was a brittle construction at best. It was hard to explain what Derek was. Easy enough to say what he _had_ been, which was basically an older brother figure when Stiles was a kid. Good at sports, popular, Derek had been everything that Stiles wanted to be. He would often run behind the older boy in adventures when they were younger, and was only begrudgingly endured. He would ask Derek everything, and Derek would tell him a mixture of scary lies, hard truths, and nothing at all. It had been hero worship at its finest, and after Derek had gone to the Tower it had basically just grown. Stiles was going to be a Sentinel just like Laura and Derek, he was going to be a partner in justice.

And then the fire happened and everything had fallen apart.

Derek took a seat, staring resolutely at his knee. Stiles couldn’t help but stare openly though, to drink in this new man before him, so unlike the gangly teen he had looked up to all those years ago. His jaw was stronger, his eyebrows took up less of his face, though perhaps that’s because his face was wider. His teeth didn’t look too big for his mouth anymore, though Stiles had only caught a glimpse of them while Derek was talking, the man’s lips tight in a frown since he first walked in.

Stiles shifted in his seat, somehow unable to know how to begin. How did he normally begin? Hi, my name is... But he already knew that. He knew Derek’s name, birthday, his favorite color (if it hadn’t changed), Stiles knew so many things that he almost missed the most obvious question of all.

“How is Laura?” he asked with only a bit of hesitation.

“She’s good,” Derek oh so eloquently replied, words pouring from his mouth in a stream of knowledge that he was obviously so willing to give to Stiles. Or not.

“That’s good,” Stiles replied back, just as eloquently. “I mean, I haven’t seen you guys since, you know...” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “The funeral.”

Not the Hale funeral though, because there hadn’t been one. Laura and Derek hadn’t wanted one. After all, there were no bodies to bury. There had been a memorial for them, funded by the police station, but neither had attended. It was obvious that the grief was too fresh, and no one blamed them for that. When Laura had moved them to a Tower in New York it had been so surrounded by understanding nods. Beacon Hills was a place filled with too many memories, too many losses.

“How’s your dad?” Derek asked, glancing up the first time since he sat down.

Stiles shrugged. “He’s okay. You know, he still struggles sometimes, but he’s okay.”

“Ah,” Derek answered, looking back to his knee.

It had been the funeral for Stiles’ Mom, that was the last time he had seen Derek. They had flown in from New York, both him and Laura, and Stiles was too young to realize how amazing that was. How the Hales were loyal to the end, for them to come back so soon after their own grief had happened. Though maybe that’s why they did come, because they knew just what it was like, knew how much you lost yourself in losing someone. Stiles couldn’t even imagine what it would have been like if he had lost his dad too.

Derek had said something to Stiles, still a kid, suddenly so lost without his mom. “She’s never really gone. She’ll always be here, in your heart.” And he had touched Stiles’ chest, and for once Derek wasn’t teasing or mean. His face held such sympathy and understanding. Stiles hadn’t cried the entire funeral, had somehow denied what was happening. Had even helped his dad shake hands with grievers who had come, had smiled up at them with oblivious politeness. But it was then, after Derek left to rejoin his sister, that he had walked to his dad, grabbed his hand, looked down at the hole that was slowly swallowing his mother’s coffin, and started to cry.

Stiles hadn’t seen or heard from the Hales since. Until today, apparently.

+++

Derek fought the urge to run out of the room. He could barely recognize Stiles, could barely see the snot nosed brat in the lithe young man sitting across from him. It had been his scent that had tipped Derek off. Derek hated it when he tried to describe personal scents, could never really put the smell into words. It was a combination of environment and perspiration, how was he suppose to know how to describe them in any way but who his mind had categorized that particular mixture of smells to? Stiles was just Stiles, and yes he smelled different now, a bit more musky which was common after puberty, a bit less of his house now that he had been living in the tower for however long, but Derek always trusted his instincts. 

Of course there were other factors of how he knew. Same shade of hair, same constellation of moles... Same honey glazed eyes that were far more interesting for such a common eye color as brown. And now, naturally, there was an extra scent, like the finest perfume ever crafted, a mixture of pheromones that every Guide gave off. A seductively sweet aroma that had even the toughest of Sentinels waxing poetic. And Stiles was practically drenched in it.

Stiles fidgeted, again. The kid never had learned to sit still. “I didn’t know you and Laura were back in California.”

“We got assigned into a department in L.A.,” Derek commented with a shrug to show just how little he cared about it. Which wasn’t particularly true, but L.A. was far enough from Beacon Hills that Derek had only accepted with just a bit of hesitation. Though apparently not far enough.

Stiles bit the corner of his lip, which he had always done as a kid before saying something that made Derek uncomfortable. Perhaps Stiles had learned when it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. 

“I tried calling a few times, a few months after the funeral. But your apartment number was disconnected.”

And then again, perhaps not.

“We moved,” was all Derek said in reply. He tried to sound nonchalant, like everyone moved without giving their new address and number. He wasn’t sure how Stiles would take the truth, that he had asked Laura not to because it was painful to remember home, to remember things about the past. Much easier to pave a new path and forget it all.

“Oh...” Stiles’ voice sounded small. 

Derek was sure that Stiles still had an obnoxiously big mouth, and that this was probably the result of feeling hurt or confused or some bullshit like that. Which was stupid. People grew apart all the time. Families stopped being friends. The kid could get over it.

“I wanted to thank you,” Stiles continued hesitantly, glancing down and showing off his long eyelashes (not that Derek particularly paid attention to things like that). “You know, what you said at my mom’s funeral? It-” He bit his lip, and looked up again. “It really meant a lot to me.”

Derek hesitated to answer. Of course he still remembered (however vaguely) the last words he had spoken to Stiles before leaving the funeral early with a hollow eyed Laura. Something about how the people you loved would always stay with you. Which was probably true for someone like Stiles, an innocent kid who had lost his mother far too soon. But Derek was never one to take his own advice. The only thing in his heart was guilt, because he didn’t deserve to remember his family with anything but.

“You’re welcome,” Derek settled on, his words wooden and stilted, awkward on his tongue.

Stiles gave a small smile at that, and it reminded Derek of the little kid who would trail behind him, complaining the Derek was going to fast and scrambling to keep up. Not too surprising he ended up becoming a Guide. Though Derek had never admitted it, Stiles hero worship had given him a lot of confidence. Confidence enough to accept the position of lacrosse captain, to swallow back the pain of that first day as a Sentinel, with so much stimulation his body felt torn asunder. Confident enough to accept the offer to bond with an older Guide, a much older woman, despite everyone telling him she felt just a little off...

“So, you’re looking for a Guide now?” Stiles said, his voice calling Derek out of his light trance.

Oh god, he hadn’t been about to zone had he? No, he didn’t feel the sluggish after effects of it. Must have just been lost in thought. “Yeah.” He didn’t feel the need to get into much detail about it.

Stiles was silent, leaning forward as if waiting for Derek to continue before evidently realizing it was a hopeless endeavor. “You should visit my dad while you’re here. He still lives in the same house, though you’re probably more likely to see him at the police station.” His grin curled up the left side of his mouth. “He might even be your boss, if anyone is willing to take your sorry excuse of a Sentinel at this Tower.”

Derek fought back a smirk. “Oh, and I’m sure you’ve had so many offers to be a Guide? Learned to hide your annoyance? Only took you so many years.”

“For your information, I’ve had tons-” Stiles bit back the words at the last moment, looking hesitantly down at his hands and scowling. “Whatever. I think our times almost up anyway. You can go ahead and walk away and completely ignore that I exist for the next six years, as per usual.”

So the kid was bitter about it. Not surprising. And Derek didn’t really know how to respond to that, besides standing up to leave. He noticed the confused looking chaperone starring at them both before hurrying to stand up herself, and it really spoke to how much of a shock the meeting at been that he only now remembered that she was still in the room.

“I’ll be leaving now,” he told her gruffly, and she nodded. He stole a quick glance back at Stiles, only to find the kid had stopped glaring and was now looking at the floor was a look between amazement and wonder. Derek followed his gaze with a tight frown, and he thought he caught a glance of shimmering silver before it blinked from his vision once more. It had obviously been his wolf, and something else, something smaller... but it was gone now, and Derek was quite frankly surprised that his wolf had materialized at all. It generally didn’t until the more critical moments in Derek’s life. It had stayed for a week, curled up against him, after the fire.

When Stiles looked back up to him Derek gave a curt nod. He really couldn’t leave without saying something. He was an adult now, more mature than when he was a teen, on a stage of healing where he could remember his past, and embrace a small part of it. Even if the Stilinksis weren’t that small of a part. “I’ll visit your dad soon. You’re right that he could be my boss. I’m not really one for teaching...”

Stiles wrinkled his brow but gave a shallow smile in return. “Awesome. Maybe I’ll even see you around.”

Derek waved as he walked out. He didn’t even bother noting just how unlikely that was.

+++

It turned out that, unlike a fine wine, Derek Hale had only grown worse with age. Somehow he was now ten times more douchey, if not coupled with the fact that he was ten times more hot. No more awkward eyebrows and gangly limbs, that was for sure, it was now all stubbled stoicness and non answers. Not even a sorry for not contacting Stiles all these years. Not even one question about how he was, besides the obviously only-out-of-politeness inquiries after his dad. Stiles hadn’t expected tearful embraces and a pouring of emotions, but for someone who had basically left Stiles seemingly without one regret, Derek wasn’t even bothered enough to put up a front of sincerity.

Stiles couldn’t believe he had hero worshipped that guy. Seriously.

And Stiles really had tried to somehow be okay with that. To smile and tease and maybe create something like the relationship they once had. But he couldn’t do it, couldn’t just pretend like Derek didn’t hurt him with his coldness and his curtness, as if they were perfect strangers. So he had curled his fists and ended the interview early, looking away only to spot something mind boggling. His squirrel, normally not even sparing a visiting Sentinel’s animal a glance, was currently curled up on top of Derek’s wolf’s head, cuddling like a mother fucker. And the wolf was just lying there, as if there wasn’t a small furry animal that he could easily eat on top of his head.

Derek and Stiles’ animals were... cuddling. Cuddling. _Cuddling_.

So when Derek left with a nonchalant promise (though Stiles doubted it, Derek would probably put off visiting the sheriff until he actually had to go beg for a job), Stiles had had maybe a little hope that Derek wasn’t all douche. That maybe this was an icy exterior layered on by years of grief. Maybe there was still a tiny bit of the old Derek locked somewhere deep inside. Stiles had been waiting for a sign. Maybe this was it.

“Do you want to go to the restroom before the next interview?” his chaperone asked. “You have a little while to spare since that one ended a bit early.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Stiles mumbled, still trying to think what just happened through. “Hey, question. If I wanted a second interview, what forms do I have to fill out again?”

+++

Out of habit Derek never turned his cell phone on silent. Everyone that had his number knew to only call if it was an emergency, and given his chosen profession emergencies tended to crop up quite a lot. So he only glared murderously at it for a few seconds before slapping a hand down over it and rubbing sleep mussed hair. The hotel clock glowed a red 7:58, and the sun was attempting to peek out from the tightly closed curtains.

“Hale speaking,” he muttered into the phone.

“Ah, Sentinel Hale.” Deaton’s voice was far too polite for comfort. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Derek swiped a lethargic hand down his face. He had just a bit of a hangover, enough that he could ignore it for now and probably nip in the bud with a few aspirin. He had needed a stiff drink after a day talking to potential Guides. One girl in particular, a Rashel or Michelle or something, had been the most annoying perky being Derek ever had the misfortune of coming across. “Not really.”

“Ah, well then I was hoping we could discuss something pertaining to Guide selection.”

Derek perked up a little at that. “I thought I didn’t have to turn in my preferences until Monday.” On the side table was a binder with Guide profiles, a little description and small picture in black and white. He hadn’t bothered to even look at them last night, fairly certain that there was no one who he could bear to to sit through a second interview with, much less spend the rest of his life with. He grabbed the binder and placed it on his lap.

“No, no, nothing in particular with anything you’ve done. It’s just... Well, I’ll be blunt with you, Sentinel Hale. There is a student who has already put his preference for a second interview with you that I believe you’ll be interested in.”

“Is that so?” Derek asked with a raised brow. He began to flip through the binder, skimming the boys. None had really seemed all that interested, but there were a few that perhaps were just shy that Derek could give a second chance.

“Well, that’s a bit of a misnomer. There have been several students who put their preferences for a second interview. However... this particular student, I believe, has a bit of a history with you.”

Derek hesitated on the page with Stiles' picture. His hair was shorter, the buzz cut he had always preferred as a child. His smile is goofy but open, and his eyes were shining with a certain daring that some Sentinels may find off putting, but others (not Derek in particular, of course) might find refreshing. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Stilinksi?” He paused, bits of information clicking together. “He’s opted for a second interview?”

Well. That was unexpected.

“Yes,” Deaton replied, his voice as neutral as ever. “Which is an oddity, you’ll understand, because Guide Stilinksi has never once even agreed to a second interview requested by a Sentinel, much less asked for one. He’s a strong student, a capable young man, and I believe he has the spark in him to be quite an exceptional Guide. So you can see where I would feel the need to tell you that him requesting this interview is no small thing.”

Derek _couldn’t_ really see why Deaton was calling him, but it was shocking news. He was no empath or anything, but he had been sure that Stiles had hated his guts by the end of their conversation. “Are you sure he’s interested?” Derek asked, hesitant to believe that the kid wasn’t coerced into it, or perhaps sarcastic in his interest.

“Positive,” Deaton assured him, and given that the Guide was an empath Derek couldn’t take that assessment for granted. “I just wanted to call to tell you that, though you may not feel it yet yourself, I have not been this Tower’s matchmaker for so long for no good reason. If you wish to have my advice, which I have a keen feeling you do not,” and he was right about that of course, “you’ll at least accept my offer for a secondary interview with Guide Stilinski today. To... test the waters, as it were.”

Derek rubbed his face again. This was not how he had expected his day to go. Some more awkward interviews, some more maybes that he would look into later, but not a second round with a kid who made Derek feel... Not guilty, no, because the kid could get over whatever feeling of betrayal or loss or whatever he was feeling. But uncomfortable, definitely uncomfortable.

But what did he have to lose for a second interview? Maybe all the kid wanted was so more time to mope. Or maybe to squeeze out an apology from Derek. And sure, Derek could do that. It didn’t bode well to piss off the Sheriff’s kid when Derek might be living in Beacon Hills for the next year or so.

So he said, “Sure. What time did you have in mind?” And he just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Finals, coming home, meeting up with friends... Not to mention I've been writing some oneshots for that contest I had and someone won me with the AO3 auction. You can expect at least 2 shiny new oneshots by the end of the month though!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stiles threw up his hands in frustration. “Fine! Fine, It’s just- it’s kind of like...” He tried to find the most eloquent way to put it, and coming up blank, he just decided to straight up say it. “My squirrel likes you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm sorry this took so long. That auction piece really took a lot out of me, and then I started binge reading fanfictions. Saddest part about writing fanfictions? Takes away time to read fanfictions. What a strange world we live in. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, my friend drew me SUPER CUTE FANART!
> 
>  
> 
> [Super Cute Fanart](http://doodleaero.tumblr.com/post/50469396280/these-doodles-were-inspired-by-embers-bonding-for)
> 
>  
> 
> You guys can get a sneak peak at Isaac's animal ;D

Stiles didn’t know why he did it. Why he thought this would be a good idea. Who thought this was a good idea? Oh yeah, him. Him and his stupid squirrel. So what if he cuddled with Derek’s wolf? Wolves were basically dogs, and dogs were hella cuddable. Maybe his squirrel was just tired. Just wanted something warm and cuddly to lay on. Okay, sure, his squirrel had never done that before, but still. Didn’t change the fact that this meeting with Derek was awkward as hell.

Stiles had opted to not have a chaperone, something that was his choice when requesting a second interview. Not that he had any illusions of privacy, there was still a camera pointed at them, although audio recordings were not a part of the Guide safety policy. Which meant that everything he had to say would stay strictly confidential. He hoped, anyway.

“So...” Stiles tapped his fingers along the coffee table between them, noticing how Derek glared at the movement. Didn’t make him stop doing it though. “I suppose you’re a little weirded out by the fact that I asked for a second interview with you.”

Derek didn’t answer, just continued to glower at Stiles’ tapping fingers.

“But I suppose,” Stiles continued, “no one really ever expects how this bonding thing will go. I mean, I’m sure tons of people who-”

“You want to bond with me?”

Stiles raised a brow at the way Derek had sounded baffled. “Uh... I thought that was somewhat warranted? Given that I asked for a second interview and everything?”

Derek was staring straight at him now with unblinking, questioning eyes. “I thought you just wanted to talk. Make me apologize or something.”

Stiles wrinkled his brow at that. “Well, not that an apology wouldn’t be excellent right now, given how you did sort of douche me out, but no. If I wanted to just talk I’m sure I could have somehow found your number. No, I was really thinking about bonding here...” A fissure of panic cracked through him. “Why? Was that the reason you accepted?”

Derek shrugged. “I just didn’t want to piss off the Sheriff’s kid, that’s all.”

And there went Stiles’ heart, dropping to the pit of his stomach like a chunk of ice. “Oh... Oh, well, I thought...” Damn, he couldn’t stop his cracking voice, how embarrassing was this? “I thought since you accepted you wanted to maybe talk about bonding... But I guess if you’re not interested-”

“I never said that,” Derek cut in, his voice sharp. He seemed taken aback by Stiles’ wince though, and quickly added, “I mean, I never said I didn’t want to bond with you.”

“Then you do?” Stiles perked up. “You mean you want to try the whole courtship thing?”

Derek opened his mouth only to close it again. He shifted his shoulders, and his eyes darted to the ground as he seemed to be preparing his thoughts. Stiles knew the best thing he could do was stay silent when Derek got like this. Talking would only annoy him. At least, if Derek hadn’t changed that much since he was a teenager.

Finally, Derek took a deep breath and looked up. “Look, there are a few guidelines I’m going to have to go through with you before we can even think about courtship. Not that I’m even sure I want to do so, just that I-” He stopped and seemed to mentally backpedal. “I mean, not that I’m sure you wouldn’t be-” He sighed and rubbed his mouth. “Look, fuck it, Stiles, I have no idea why you want to be my Guide. I thought you hated me.”

“Okay, I could see where you would think that,” Stiles admitted. “And to be honest I don’t particularly put you on the list of my favorite people right now, for obvious reasons.” Abandonment, callousness, coldness, impoliteness, to name a few. Not that Stiles was particularly apt to name them. “But I can look past all that, because I know how- well, I know what you’ve been though, okay?” He jerked up his hands, palms forward. “Not like, I know exactly what if felt like! I mean I know my mom died but that wasn’t anything- I just meant, as in fact wise, I know what your family meant to you-”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, again cutting him off. “Get to the point.”

“Okay, okay.” Stiles rubbed anxious hands across his jeans. “It’s just, well, I know you. Or knew you. And you weren’t a half bad guy before. And, despite how you are right now, which FYI isn’t all that great, I still think the Derek I knew is probably in there. Deep, deep in there,” Stiles felt the need to add, because there was quite a few layers of leather and coldness before he felt the real Derek would begin to submerge. “And I’d rather take someone who I know has a chance of being someone I like over a complete stranger, you know?”

Derek raised a brow. “You liked me before?”

Stiles shrugged, despite his rising embarrassment. “Sure, when I was a kid I basically worshipped you. Not hard to think that it was a childhood crush, looking back on it. Before I knew I was into guys, anyway.”

Derek seemed to smolder angrily a bit at that. “That in no way indicates how we’ll like each other now.”

“Yeah, thus, courtship. It’s not a marriage commitment, it’s just time for us to date a bit, see if there’s anything there. And if there isn’t? Psh, fine, you can go back to being Mr. Mcbroodypants, and I can start looking for another Sentinel I do find an attraction to. All in all, far more reasonable than a teenage boy has any right to be, if I do say so myself.”

Derek was silent for awhile, looking at Stiles’ face like he was trying to find a hidden image. Finally he said, his voice demanding, “Why else do you want to bond?”

“Tsk, what do you mean?” Stiles asked, trying to play it cool. “I just gave a very logical reason. In fact, my logic is so logical Spock would have been proud.”

Derek didn’t even attempt to hide his eye roll. “I can tell you’re hiding something, Stiles. You always do the same thing when you’re trying to keep something from me.”

“What thing?” Stiles asked, a little affronted.

Derek smirked. “If I told you then you would stop doing it.”

Stiles threw up his hands in frustration. “Fine! Fine, It’s just- it’s kind of like...” He tried to find the most eloquent way to put it, and coming up blank, he just decided to straight up say it. “My squirrel likes you.”

+++

“Your... squirrel,” Derek echoed, incredulous. Was there some sort of slang he was missing here?

Stiles’ eyes narrowed. “Yeah dude, my squirrel. My animal? It’s a squirrel. I thought you already knew that.”

Derek, in fact, hadn’t known that. He had a hard time seeing his own spirit animal, much less others. Both Sentinels and Guides were able to see animals, or make their own animals easier for others to see. Both ways were enhanced by natural talent, years of practice, or heightened emotion. Derek had only ever experienced the later. “I don’t see them easily.”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. “Oh... I know that Sentinels have more of a difficult time seeing them, but I guess I thought I was nervous enough- okay, well, let me try to show you, okay? This discussion will be a lot easier once you see.”

Before Derek had time to ask what exactly he was suppose to see, Stiles was leaning over and placing a hand over Derek’s own. Normally Derek would have flinched back before contact was made, but there was something about Guides, their smell and voice and even aura, that always disarmed the Sentinel in him. Besides, the reasonable part of his brain supplied, skin to skin contact was the easiest way for Guides to help Sentinels. Stiles only wanted to show Derek their animals.

But Derek looked down at where their two hands were touching, and couldn’t help but notice that Stiles’ hands were as large as his own now, just as warm.

“There,” Stiles muttered, forcing Derek to look up to where the Guide was pointing at the floor. “Do you see what I mean?”

Derek did see what Stiles meant. His wolf was currently curled up on the floor, and in the crease between its stomach and legs laid a small tuft of brown fur. One could only assume that it was Stiles’ squirrel.

Derek felt Stiles’ squeeze his hand, but when he looked up the boy was still staring at their sleeping animals, a look of wonder on his face, pink lips slightly parted, eyes seeming to sparkle caramel-

Fuck, no poetry, no poetry.

“I’ve never seen him do that,” Stiles murmured, as if not to wake the animals. “He usually runs around or hides, but he never- hell, I’ve never even seen him go to sleep, you know? And this is the second time he’s done... that, with your wolf.”

Derek didn’t really know what that meant. He had once, vaguely, seen his own animal rub its head against Laura’s wolf in comfort after the fire. But other than that he had no idea what his animal did from a day to day basis, how it reacted to others, if it was even there at all. To be honest most of the time he simply forgot it existed. He had no idea if the behavior it was exhibiting now was odd, but he couldn’t ignore the gut feeling that it was. It seemed that was unique for his wolf to be this unguarded and relaxed. He suddenly understood was Stiles meant.

He willed himself to pull his hand from Stiles’ grasp, and was startled by how hard it was to do. He hadn’t remembered how comforting a Guide’s touch could be. There was always bonded ones in the force who were willing to lend a relaxing touch when needed, but he had never asked. It was like tendrils of comfort that curled in loose threads, radiating from Stiles’ touch and reaching under Derek’s skin. He felt cold when he pulled his hand slowly back, hollowed out, like there was a part within him that he had never realized was missing until it was pushed back into place. A dangerous feeling.

Stiles turned to him with languid blinks and a soft smile. “Oh, sorry. I only meant to show you real quick. Didn’t mean to get so handsy.”

Derek’s nostrils flared as he got a heavy dose of Stiles’ scent. Pheromones, heady and calling out like a siren’s song, rich of unbonded Guide. It was enough to drive some Sentinel’s to action, declarations of love and forceful kisses, but Derek wasn’t some Sentinels. He could control himself, he could control his urges. He willed his nose to shut down, to dial back his senses. He willed his heart rate to slow. He willed his eyes to stop gazing at Stiles’ mouth, pink and perfect as a cupid’s bow, a tongue darting out to wetten them in the most tantalizing way.

“Oh...” Stiles said softly, his eyes becoming lidded. “I feel that.”

Derek jerked back into the sofa back as if he had been slapped. “Don’t read my emotions without my consent,” he near snarled, his hackles raised.

Stiles bit his bottom lip, reaching out to grab Derek’s hand again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“And don’t try to touch me.” Derek’s voice was more calm now, but he jerked his hand away from Stiles’ reach. “I’m perfectly fine right now, I don’t need your help to calm down.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” The Guide reeled his hand in and used it to rub the back of his hair nervously. “It’s instinct, I swear. I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“Look, we have to get some things straight,” Derek began, articulating carefully. “I don’t want a Guide. In my opinion, I don’t need one. But it’s either this or lose my badge, but I’m not going to believe some ancient theory that I’ll suddenly be healed from all my fucking problems because I’m bonded, okay? And this?” He pointed a finger to himself and then to Stiles. “This is so that I can get back on the force. I don’t need a relationship, I don’t want one. I want a partner, not a wife, got it?”

Stiles eyes flashed. “Husband. Just because I happen to be in a more traditionally subservient role, which I think is complete bullshit by the way, does not mean you get to just conveniently forget I have a dick, okay? Not even counting how sexist even the thought of that- look, you need to stop talking to me like I’m a lovelorn teenager and more like I’m a freaking grown adult, got it?”

“Then start acting like one,” Derek shot back. “I tell you all that and _that's_ all you have to say? You’re obviously not ready for the kind of professional relationship-”

“I’m not _ready_? Really? You think any Guide in this whole freaking Tower is going to fall for that?” Stiles asked, his arms beginning to flail. “Sorry to break it to you, but not even the most cold and clinical Guide wants to be told that they have to have a loveless bond for the rest of their life, no matter how much they want to lick your face.”

 _Shit_. Shit, shit, shit, what was Derek thinking? He wasn’t suppose to actually _say_ that. Stiles just had this way of making him so worked up, of making him forget all reason. He was suppose to romance his way into a bond, lie his ass off about feelings, let whatever Guide fell for that go to college and realize how shitty Derek was in comparison.

“You weren’t going to tell me that, were you?” Stiles realized, shocked. “You were going to bond with someone and not tell them the truth, weren’t you?”

+++

“What’s it to you?” Derek asked mulishly, the fucking dick. “Why do you even care? It’s not like I was going to hurt anyone, or lock them away, or keep them from doing what they wanted.”

God, and he actually sounded like he believed it.

“Dude, that is not how bonds work. Every single person who’s told me about it says- says you _want_ to be together. That you need to be. That you’re not complete without the other person there. It’s like, the biggest commitment you can make, ever. And you were just going to lie to someone about it? About how you felt?” Stiles shook his head. “Amazing. Even I couldn’t pass that bluff check, dude.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek muttered tiredly, covering his eyes with his hands.

“Wow, are you... embarrassed?” Stiles’ smile was crooked. “I mean, yeah, did you really think that was going to work out?” Though, in theory, it could work out very well in Stiles’ favor. He slapped his hands together excitedly, prompting a cold look from Derek. “Okay, let’s make a deal. I don’t tell all those lovely matchmakers about your grand scheme to nab yourself an unsuspecting Guide, and you court me.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you blackmailing me? Into bonding with you?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold your horses! I never said anything about bonding. Courtship, dude, dating. As in, you romance me, I romance you, we see if we like where it’s going, and if it feels right then we’ll bond.”

“After I just told you that I don’t want a relationship?”

Okay, Stiles had to give him that one. But if there was something a Stilinski wasn’t afraid of, it was a challenge. “Exactly dude. Either you’re going to end up without a Guide, and miserable, or you’ll end up with a Guide, and miserable. But put a shot of Stiles in your life? Hell, who knows, maybe you’ll actually learn to feel again, Tin Man. At least enough that you’ll give another Guide a chance, should we find ourselves incompatible.”

“You’re going to fix me?” Derek sneered. “Stiles, I don’t think you realize that there’s nothing for you to fix.”

“Hey,” Stiles said as he waved a hand, “I wouldn’t get all self-confident after-”

Derek grabbed the boy’s wrist to stop the movement, staring down into wide eyes with a hard stare. “No, Stiles. There’s nothing left to fix. It’s burned out of me. It’s gone.” His hand tightened, just a fraction, and the ice in his eyes melted just a bit, his voice cracking with a dark vein of misery as he said, “I don’t want this. I don’t want a Guide.”

But Stiles jaw was set and his mind made up. “Look, you either court me or I tell everyone just how fucked up your thoughts on bonding are. There’s a lot more Sentinels than Guides, _Derek_.” He yanked his hand back. “And I’m the only one willing to take your grumpy ass, so you best get used to it or get used to the idea of never being a cop again.”

But why was Stiles so determined? Did he really believe that he could turn Derek back into his old self, coax a smile out of that stubbled frown, turn him back to the person Stiles once knew? He didn’t know, but he knew he would hate himself if he didn’t try. He felt responsible for this Derek, for the family friend who Stiles had known all his life. Sure Derek had teased him, been mean and cocky, but he had also always been there. Had been there with kind words when Stiles had felt like nothing could possibly make sense anymore.

Stiles had to try.

Derek simply glared. “Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll court you. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Stiles retorted dryly. God, what had he just gotten himself into?

+++

“How are you feeling about this courtship, Derek?” asked the too calm counselor, a young woman by the name of Ms. Morrell.

Derek shrugged. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about this session, apparently mandatory for all Sentinels who submitted a request of courtship. At least they weren’t going to let crazies live in the Tower. “Not sure yet.”

“Hmm.” She flipped through a few papers. “It seems you have a history with Stiles. Your families knew each other quite well, is that right?”

“Growing up, yes. But after the fire me and my sister moved to New York, and we decided to cut off contacts with our old... connections,” Derek admitted hesitantly. “So I haven’t talked to Stiles in a few years.”

“And you haven’t visited Beacon Hills since returning to California, is that correct?” Ms. Morrell didn’t look up from her papers.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.” She sounded sincere but professional as she said this, glancing up.

Derek decided to ignore the comment beyond a muttered, “Thanks.” He really hoped they weren’t going to start discussing things like... that.

“But moving on to Stiles,” Ms. Morrell transitioned smoothly, “I’ll have you know that I am not at liberty to divulge any information of our sessions together, as you are not yet bonded to him.” She smiled softly. “However he has always come across as a brilliant young man for me, and I for one hope you realize a good thing when you have it.”

Derek nodded curtly at that. What was with it and the people at this school? Perhaps they took their roles of matchmakers a little too seriously.

“As an older Sentinel, there’s many things that you will need to adjust to now that you’ve entered into a courtship with a student here.”

“Right.” The courtship that Derek was still wondering why he accepted. Besides the fact that the little twerp threatened to blackmail him. He had no idea what he was going to do. God, he got a migraine just thinking about it. One day at a time, Derek, one day at a time.

“There’s many things that may be different from other relationships you’ve had,” Ms. Morrell continued. “He’s still a teenager, so of course there will be age differences. He may do things that you deem immature or childish, but that is normal with these sorts of relationships. You’ll have to understand that he hasn’t had the life experiences you have, so he may not always see eye to eye with you. It would be best if you tried to see things from his perspective, rather than become agitated.”

That was never going to happen. If there was one thing Stiles was good at, it was pushing all of Derek’s buttons. Still, he nodded like the good Sentinel he was.

Ms. Morrell selected a pamphlet off her desk and handed it to Derek. “This here will detail specific guides on courtship within the Tower. You may schedule times to spend with Stiles, up to an hour on weekdays, extended time on weekends. All meetings will continue to be monitored, though no audio recordings will be taken. You will not be able to leave the Tower with Stiles until you have bonded, for the Guide’s safety. Should either have you wish to cut off the courtship early, you have but to contact the Office of Bonding Affairs and they will immediately cut off your access and make arrangements for you to leave the Tower.” She raised a questioning brow. “Understood?”

Derek nodded. It was all in the pamphlet anyway. “Is that all?”

“Not quite. I read on your files that you had a short bonding with a Guide when you were around Stiles’ age.” 

The bitch’s voice didn’t even flinch.

Derek clenched his fists, the pamphlet crinkling together. “I’d rather not discuss that, if it’s all the same to you.” He tried to keep his voice calm, but it was a struggle.

“I understand that, but I simply wished to tell you that if I believe that your past experiences in any way will harm one of our Guides, or that you still hold a grudge against Guides for the past actions your Guide did against you, I will have you immediately thrown out of the Tower.” Ms. Morrell didn’t even blink as she stared at Derek with assessing eyes. “You see, Sentinel Hale, I am very protective of my students. I will not have anyone threatening their chance at happiness. I hope you can see things from my perspective in regards to this, no disrespect meant towards your own past hardships.”

Derek didn’t even know what to say to that, so all he did was nod and coldly ask, “Is that all?”

Ms. Morrell’s smile, apparently deceptive, didn’t waver. “Yes, but I would also like to let you know that it’s not only Guides who may request my services in this Tower. Every resident is free to make an appointment, without question or judgement.”

“Well, you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t jump to accept that invitation,” Derek answered tartly, standing up. “Have a good day, Ms. Morrell.”

“And you too, Sentinel Hale.”

Derek tried to keep himself from slamming the door and stomping out of the building like a five year old. No, he was an adult. He was a Sentinel. He calmly walked down the hall, reading his pamphlet to get his mind off the infuriating conversation he just had.

_Your Guide and You: Information for the Older Sentinel_

_Now that you’ve begun your courtship of your Guide, there are many new feelings you’re bound to experience. Enhanced senses, better control, and a sense of completion are just a few benefits that comes along with being with a soon to be bonded Guide, but there are also things you must consider. As a Sentinel you will feel a strong protection for your Guide. You’ll feel the need to see to their needs, however big or small, and to be constantly by their side. Be prepared for that feeling to only grow stronger as you grow closer to your Guide! Bonded Sentinels are even known to give up their own lives without a second thought in order to protect their Guides._

Derek hated every word. He knew all this. He had felt all this. That need to please your Guide, to be constantly with them, constantly touching. For them to be the most important life in your world, even greater than your own. They could never do no wrong, they were good, all good, and no one would ever tell you different.

God, it made him sick. He had felt all this. And, because of it, he had seen to it that his family was killed. Stiles wanted to fix him? Fine. Derek wasn’t lying when he said there was nothing left to fix. And if there was? He deserved for it to be broken. He deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this seemed very plot serving. I tried my best to make it reasonable given the background of both characters, and this somehow just popped up. I'll be trying my best to keep them in character, but if you guys feel like I'm veering off the path I always love feedback!
> 
> Also, as is proven by the fact that a comment made me write this chapter today, nothing gets me writing faster than comments, reviews, critiques, and edits <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Or perhaps you actually, god forbid,_ want _someone that makes you happy? Want someone that gives you all the things a Guide does?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Unlikely, but possible,” Derek drawled, opening up a beer cap, pressing it to his lips._
> 
>  
> 
> _Laura was silent for a few beats, allowing Derek to take a sip before she said, “Or perhaps he reminds you of family.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Derek nearly choked. He coughed up the liquid threatening to run down his windpipe, and glared at the phone still clenched in his hand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lateness (again)! I'm going to a convention soon and I've been doing sewing madness, so weekends are a bit crazy for me! However I really want to get to a certain part of this story, so I may be writing more in the near future. I just hate forcing myself to write, since I tend to not write as well that way.

Stiles had very few people to talk to about his current courtship situation. And it was, indeed, a situation. If ever there was a name for this instance, situation was it. Now usually Scott was his go to guy for situation-handling, but Stiles wasn’t sure how he would explain that one. Derek and Scott hadn’t been on the friendliest of terms when they were younger, and Stiles was hard pressed to explain why he had a sudden interest in bonding with Derek. Or the circumstances surrounding it. Not that he felt that he really should be spreading those certain circumstances. After all, wasn’t that why Derek agreed to this courtship thing in the first place? For Stiles to keep his mouth shut? And the last thing the guide wanted to do was topple his already precariously placed relationship with what may be the most stubborn Sentinel Stiles had ever met.

But Stiles had made up his mind, and if there was one quality that could be attributed to a Stilinski it was stubbornness. So he was going to grit his teeth and somehow fix the broken pieces which now represented his childhood friend. And hey, wasn’t Stiles good at that? Fixing broken things? He was the crazy glue of people. Every Guide sort of was.

But that still did not fix his problem of having no one to talk about it with. Not that he had many friends within the Tower to choose from, should he be able to choose. Which he couldn’t. Because he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even Scott. Especially Scott.

Okay, well he had to tell Scott something.

“Derek Hale?” Scott shouted into his skype, as expected of Stiles’ sweet but predictable best friend.

“Hey, he wasn’t that bad when we were kids,” Stiles argued back.

“Not that bad? Are you remembering the same Derek that I am?” Scott slapped the desk hard. “The one that would push us into the pond when it was freezing cold? The one who would steal the last ice pop, even though he already had like twenty? The one who would-”

“Okay, Scott, calm down, I get your point.” Stiles waved a flippant hand. “No one cares, dude. That was ages ago. We were kids. You used to wet the bed, but that doesn’t mean you still do.”

“I never wet the bed. Stop saying I wet the bed, you were the one who put my hand in water, and that so does not count!”

Stiles scoffed. “Okay, look, the point is that Derek has changed. In fact, he may have evolved into an even douchier version of his childhood bully self. So, I don’t think reminding me of how he used to tease us as kids is really going to change my mind.”

“He didn’t just tease us Stiles, he was straight up merciless and you just can’t remember because you were too busy kissing the ground he walked on. With flowers. Lots of flowers.”

“That analogy doesn’t even make sense.”

“That’s not my point!” Scott shouted back with a scowl. “The point is you never were able to see him for the horrible person he was, and apparently that is now going to get you bonded with someone who you barely know. Or barely knew. Or, well, knew a little and then didn’t know because he didn’t even tell you his new number, and I remember you being miserable when your phone call didn’t connect, and now you’re going to get married to the guy?”

Scott did have a point there. As many happy memories Stiles had of Derek, there were sad ones too. Hurtful ones. Ones that had made Stiles so angry and hurt and upset, feeling like he’d been abandoned and unwanted. He couldn’t lie about it; how it happened at a time in his life that had been so dark on its own, right after his mother’s death. And he couldn’t explain why he wanted Derek now. Was there really more to it than taking a hint from his squirrel? God, that just sounded ridiculous in hindsight.

“He’s hurt, Scott.” Stiles chose to say the truth, or as much of the truth as his oath of silence would allow him to. “That fire thing really fucked him up, you know? And I was there when it happened, I saw how... hollow he was, afterwards. And I can’t help but feel for him, with my mom and all.”

Scott shook his head, though he had a soft look of understanding. “You don’t get it Stiles. Bonding isn’t suppose to be surgery. You can’t just court someone because you want to fix them. It’s two souls melding, dude. It’s letting someone in so far you can’t cut them out with an exacto blade. It’s scary and awesome and everything, just everything man. And I don’t know what’ll happen if it’s not with the right person.”

Stiles bit his cheek, and thought for a hard moment how to put what he wanted to say into words. “Okay, look, you knew Allison all of like a month, right?”

Scott narrowed his eyes but nodded slowly.

“And you knew she was the one, right? Because some instinct told you, deep down, that she was the right person for you, right?”

Again, another slow nod from Scott.

“Well, that’s what it’s like for me. Instinct. Something about Derek is telling me to be with him. And even though I don’t really know why that is, and even though it may be flawed, I think that it could lead to something just as great as all that stuff you were just saying. It could lead me to a bond like the one you and Allison have, or my mom and dad did have.” Stiles cleared his throat, a little embarrassed by his speech, and eased his way into a lopsided grin. “I mean, not like I signed the marriage certificate or anything, right? This courtship can last as long as I want, and end whenever I want too.”

Scott sighed and rubbed his curly locks. “Yeah, I know, I just don’t want you to get hurt again. Just... don’t get your hopes up, okay? If he’s really as messed up as you make it sound, then you just might not be able to fix whatever’s wrong with him.”

“Well,” Stiles mused, pleased at Scott’s admission, “no harm in trying.”

+++

“Come on Der, what’s the harm in trying?”

“You’re not the one who has to bond with him Laura!” Derek found himself shouting into the cell phone before clenching his teeth and trying to tone down his voice. “You’re not the one who he pretty much blackmailed into courting his ass. All in all, you’re not the one in this situation, so you really have no. Room. To. Talk.”

“ _All in all_ , you really didn’t think your grand master plan was really going to work, did you?” Laura gave a tinkling laugh. “Get a Guide to bond with you and then leave them on the doorsteps of some college? Really Der-Bear, I could have told you the stupidity in that, no need to have Stiles spell it out for you. Maybe he’ll finally get your ass in order.”

“My ass in in perfect order, thank you all the same sister dear,” Derek replied, dry as a bone. He paced his hotel room, the plush carpet flattened where he had trodden before. “And if you call me Der-Bear one more time I will start telling the precinct about that time in third grade-”

“No!”

“Yeah, the time with the dog food and the orange juice-”

“Ugh, you are evil beyond all belief, Sentinel Hale,” Laura said icily. “But this doesn’t change my undying support for you to get yourself a Guide. And Stiles, from the brief description you felt privileged enough to tell me, seems to be just the type of Guide that you need. Aka, someone who won’t take your bullshit, oh brother of mine.”

“Someone like you, you mean?” Derek couldn’t hide his grin, even if there was no one in the hotel room to see it.

“Yup, someone just like me, the most wonderful person that could exist,” Laura agreed. “But seriously, you’ve groused about this boy, who I can remember as being nothing but adorable, if not a bit hyperactive, for a good twenty minutes.”

“It’s only been five minutes.”

“What has felt like twenty minutes,” Laura conceded. “And all this time I have yet to hear why you agreed to court him, despite your lame excuse of blackmail, which I know you could have easily avoided if you wanted to.” Derek could hear the sound of her flipping her hair. “You are related to me, after all. Some of those genetics had to go through.”

Derek was mulishly silent for a few moments, before admitting, the heavy words dragged out of him, “I don’t know.”

A dramatic gasp from Laura at that. “What? Do my well trained Sentinel ears deceive me? Derek Hale doesn’t _know_?” Derek could almost hear her grin, that stupid, wicked one she always had when teasing him. “Any theories on that yet, Detective?”

“Not a detective, and no.”

“Oh, not even one? Like the fact that perhaps you’re attracted to the kid who used to look up to you like you were some sort of idol?”

“Hadn’t crossed my mind,” Derek noted dryly, moving to the minibar.

“Or perhaps you actually, god forbid, _want_ someone that makes you happy? Want someone that gives you all the things a Guide does?”

“Unlikely, but possible,” Derek drawled, opening up a beer cap, pressing it to his lips.

Laura was silent for a few beats, allowing Derek to take a sip before she said, “Or perhaps he reminds you of family.”

Derek nearly choked. He coughed up the liquid threatening to run down his windpipe, and glared at the phone still clenched in his hand.

“I know you don’t like to hear it Der, but it’s true,” came Laura’s calm voice from the speakers. “He was there in a time when our lives weren’t so seriously fucked up. Maybe he takes you back-”

“I don’t wanna be taken back,” Derek snarled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone. “I don’t deserve that, you know I don’t. Not after what I did.”

Laura was quiet once more, before saying softly, “What _she_ did.”

“Look, I have to go to sleep.” Derek poured the rest of the beer down the bathroom sink, no longer in the mood for drinking. “I’ll call you some other time.”

“Derek, don’t hang up. Not after-”

Her voice cut off as Derek ended the call, wiping the alcohol from his lips with the back of his hand. The taste was overpowering now, coating his tongue like bile. He could smell the cheap soap in his bathroom, the dusty scent wafting from the air conditioner, the floral spray that littered the carpets. The room next to his was watching the news, and the soothing voices of the announcers suddenly sounded grating, too loud to Derek’s over sensitive ears. He had to shut his eyes and smack his palm across the wall, reaching for the switch, the fluorescent lights leaving his vision hazy.

He breathed deeply, trying to count down from ten, then from a hundred. He walked slowly towards the bed, feeling around so he wouldn’t have to open his eyes. He wasn’t going to zone out, not here, not in the middle of his hotel room. He crawled underneath the covers and put a pillow over his head, trying to drown out the sounds. The soft cotton of the bed sheets felt like construction paper against his skin, the light scent of the detergent was acrid against his nose, but he ignored it, trying to breath, trying to calm down.

Laura didn’t call back.

+++

The third meeting with Derek didn’t exactly go, in the strict sense of the word, well.

It was hard to keep a straight face when Derek currently had Stiles’ squirrel snuggling in his lap. Made all the more hilarious by the fact that Derek couldn’t _see_ Stiles’ squirrel. And yeah, it definitely wasn’t normal for the squirrel to be doing that.

Sentinel and Guide’s animals were incorporeal, having no effect on the physical world. They could just as easily float through a wall as climb up them, but generally they acted in ways that reflected the creatures they were. Cats tended to slink, dogs tended to bounce, and Stiles’ squirrel tended to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. So, cuddling up in people’s laps? Generally a no go.

Derek’s wolf, in the meantime, was currently sitting tall next to the couch Derek was on, looking every inch the soldier its Sentinel was named after. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Derek was giving all the loving from an animal he couldn’t even see, while Stiles was being snubbed. Not that he would feel said cuddles, but still, twas the thought that counted.

Not only that, but Stiles wasn’t exactly an ace when it came to seeing animals. Sure, his own squirrel was almost an ever constant in the edge of his vision, but Stiles had a connection with him. He didn’t tend to see other’s animals unless he truly concentrated, or if others concentrated to show them. Which meant that Derek’s wolf wanted to be seen, even if Derek was unaware of it. And Stiles had no idea what that really meant.

“So,” Stiles started hesitantly, “what brought you back to California? The big apple turn sour for ya?”

“Work,” Derek replied, stiff as ever. “Work in the LA precinct now.” He scowled. “Or I did.”

“Right, touchy subject, avoiding, avoiding!” Stiles grabbed his glass of water and took a gulp, raking his mind for another topic. “So... any hobbies you enjoy?”

A shrug. “My work keeps me pretty busy.”

“Wow, aren’t you just a fountain of knowledge which poureth over.” Stiles licked the water from his lips, and noted that his squirrel was currently curled up on Derek’s shoulder, content as could be. If only Stiles was feeling as comfortable.

Another shrug. “What do you expect? An autobiography here?” 

“Maybe,” Stiles answered with lowered eyelids, “though I would like the sass free, family friendly edition, should it be available.”

This time a scoff. Wow, making real progress here. “Like you’re one to talk about sass.”

“Hey, at least my sass comes with a nice side helping of charisma, a skill trait you are seriously lacking. In fact I think you take a penalty to rolls with what I’ve seen so far.”

Derek leaned forward and raised a brow. “And I suppose you’re the same nerdy little shit who can’t stop ranting about Spider Man and the newest gamecube game.”

Stiles copied his movement, same eyebrow, because two could play at that game. “Dude, you’re like three systems behind, but okay, I can accept that. Coming from a geezer like you.”

“Oh, excuse me for not keeping up with all the latest _video game trends_ ,” Derek sneered, turning the phrase into something more akin to ‘hot wheels’ than ‘awesome multifaceted system which allows for high definition gameplay and plays a variety of genres, including many that could be said to be a damn art form,’ but okay. This was a coming from a person who hadn’t even played _Mario Galaxy_ , much less _Bioshock_.

“Okay, well then you can just regale me with your latest stories of your oh so interesting wor- and that doesn’t really equate to sarcasm given that you actually have a pretty interesting job, being a cop and all, right.” Stiles scratched his neck and looked away from Derek’s victorious eyebrows. Seriously, how could a pair of eyebrows be so condescending?

“I’d be happy to tell you about my job,” Derek said smoothly. “You want to know about the car chase down Santa Ana? Or the triple homicide in South Central? Perhaps the rash of burglaries around Beverly Hills? Any of those sound interesting enough for you?”

Stiles didn’t pout, he was far too manly to pout, but it was close. “Uh, Sheriff dad, so not impressed.” Total lie, Beacon Hills was a sleepy town if one ever existed, he was totally impressed. Not that he wanted Derek knowing that. “Why don’t you just start with the last case you took on, big boy.”

And then suddenly Derek, who had spoken so light heartedly and looked like he was almost about to smile, shut down. He moved back and sat rigid against the back of the couch, causing Stiles’ squirrel to squeak (or at least Stiles imagined he squeaked, you couldn’t really hear animals) in protest and rush off Derek’s shoulder, it’s tail flicking the Sentinel’s nose lightly (not that Derek noticed), and leaped onto Derek’s wolf’s head without further ado, something that didn’t even make the canine flinch.

Stiles sighed and rubbed his palm up his face. “Okay, obviously another touchy subject, moving on-”

“It’s not touchy,” Derek just about growled. “It’s just... not what I would call interesting.”

“Oh, yeah, the case that got you basically roped into bonding. Totally not interesting at all, I’m sure.”

Derek’s eyebrows did an impressive move at that, if by impressive Stiles’ meant infuriated. Which, tenses didn’t quite work out, but yeah, Derek didn’t look too happy right now. Great Stilinski, just great. First meeting during courtship and you already managed to piss the Sentinel off. Wow, what will the next meeting hold? A fisticuffs match? Let us hope not, Derek would probably kick your scawny ass-

“It was a perp from a drug ring,” admitted Derek quietly, cutting off Stiles’ self beratement. The Guide swept his gaze forward, a little shocked. Derek continued, “He had been on the run for months, thought he had left the state, but he turned up in the suburbs of LA. I went with another officer to catch him. He shot me, I lost my cool and the other cop had to tranq me. End of story.”

Stiles blinked a few times. “Well... that certainly sounds... a lot more interesting than you make it out to be. Less 9 o’clock news and more CSI to me, but okay. I get that you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m fine with talking about it, Stiles.” Derek articulated it clearly, sounding as condescending as his eyebrows were want to be. “This is me, talking about it.”

“Okay, fine, I get it. Topic officially on the metaphorical board for discussion.” Stiles folded his arms. “So where did you get shot?”

“Arm.”

“Oh. Which arm?”

“Left.”

“Can I see it?”

Stiles had a bit of a love/hate relationship with gore. He wasn’t the best with needles and things, but action movies always got him revved up. His favorite thing as a kid was to ask the officers in his dad’s station to show him their scars. If he was lucky the Sentinels would have something as cool as a bullet wound. Talia Hale had a six inch slice along her stomach from a knife. And yeah, so not thinking about Derek’s dead mom right now. So not.

Derek shrugged and lifted his sleeve, showing a large white bandage on the side of his bicep. He peeled it back carefully, revealing a small section of angry red skin, tied tightly with black stitches. Stiles mentally oooed and ahhed at it, leaning forward to get a better look. He tentatively reached out his hand, as if to touch it, pausing as Derek flinched back.

“Oh, sorry dude.” Stiles gave a small, apologetic smile. “I wasn’t going to actually touch it, just a thing I do when I see wounds. You should have seen this bite mark Scott got one time on his stomach from a rabid dog.”

Derek grunted and put back on the bandage, obviously still in one of his stoic glooms. Stiles leaned back and evaluated how easy it was for Derek to lose control. Getting shot was obviously triggering for survival instincts, which would cause plenty of Sentinels to lose it. Unless Derek had presented a clear threat to the perp without the argument of self defense, Stiles couldn’t see how that had lead to the Sentinel being forced to bond with a Guide. Obviously there was a pattern that Derek was choosing to leave out.

“Talk to my dad yet about a job yet?” Stiles asked cheerfully. “I think you’ll have a bit of an in with your current bonding situation, but that’s just me.”

Derek shrugged. “Haven’t bothered to talk to them yet. Just starting to look for a place to live in town in the meantime. A loft or something.”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. “A loft? Why can’t you stay in the Tower?”

It wasn’t an odd question. Just about every outside Sentinel that came to bond stayed in the tower. It was almost instinctual to do so, and they had temporary dorms away from the students. It was all paid for by the state until they bonded, in which case they moved into a shared room with their Guides. It was why the Tower was so big with so many restricted zones, security cards given to everyone.

Another shrug, and this time Derek didn’t even bother to look Stiles in the eyes. “Just something for my own sake, I guess. Don’t really like the idea of living under lock and key.”

Well that wasn’t exactly a great situation. It meant that Derek didn’t feel the drive to stay as close to his potential Guide as possible. Which, given the circumstances they were currently courting with, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise to Stiles. After all, who and blackmailed whom in this scenario? And Stiles wasn’t about to pout. He wasn’t the type of Guide to gave puppy dog eyes and manipulate his Sentinel to his every whim. So what if he was the only one in this relationship who felt the urge to be close. Not every bonding pair had to have that instinct. This was an adult relationship, based on adult feelings of mutual trust. Which yes, didn’t exist yet, but was going to. Sometime. Hopefully soon.

So, Stiles shrugged and gave the most easy going smile he could muster. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable dude.”

They would get there. Eventually. Right?

+++

Derek absolutely was not eating dinner in the Tower because he was reluctant to leave his Guide. First off, Stiles was nowhere near being ‘Derek’s Guide.’ He didn’t even feel an attraction towards the kid. Not really. There may be, in retrospect, some Sentinels who went for the doe eyed, long lashed, pink lipped type. Some may even see Stiles’ moles and freckles, which Derek barely had the time to notice, and pass a moment thinking of kissing each individual one. Just a moment. Not that, of course, Derek had passed _even_ a moment thinking of them.

And then there was the way Stiles’ smelled.

Derek couldn’t deny the pheromones that wafted off every Guide, but unbonded ones especially. They were neon signs to every nearby Sentinel, and even without a proper bond they were soothing, pulling at Derek’s Sentinel blood like the moon does to the tide. It was like laundry left out in the summer sun, or hot cider on a chilly autumn night, or the way the first snowy morning smelled in the forest. Like home and peace and everything good. But most guides smelled like that. It was just because Stiles was unbonded that he gave out a heavier dose than Derek was used to. That was it, nothing special about it.

No, Derek was eating dinner at the Tower because he was hungry and dinner was free.

He took a seat at an empty booth and began to eat his overcooked steak, grimacing at why he even felt the urge to eat here tonight. It was past dinner rush, so the dining hall wasn’t too crowded, mainly older Sentinels and teachers. Derek didn’t feel inclined to introduce himself to any of them, but it served as a reminder that he needed to find a job soon. He was dreading the thought of going to the police department and begging for a job. He didn’t know if his record would immediately get him rejected, and if that somehow managed not to fuck him up there was always the fact that he was currently courting to, eventually, bang the Sheriff’s only son. Not to mention how he had severed all ties with the Stilinskis years ago, so there was no telling if the father bore a grudge, similar to his son. All in all, something that Derek knew he had to try for eventually, but something he could admit to putting off.

It was then that two girls walked in, a blonde and a redhead, their guides plastered to their sides. Derek didn’t give them much thought besides the cursory notice of the rarity of female Sentinels. The school boasted only a handful in its population, and they were given all the rights and privileges of their male counterparts. Female Sentinels had always had more liberty than the rest of society’s women, but were often thought of as men, in history adapting male fashions and even names. It was only as recently as the last century that they had begun to reclaim their womanhood, arguing that being a female did not make one weak. These two teenage girls showed that, the blonde with cleavage to kill and tight jeans, the redhead with a short skirt and a pair of stockings to match, both in heels that could probably slice through throats.

Derek didn’t pay them much mind, that is, until they stopped by his booth with curious eyes.

“Sentinel Hale?” the redhead asked, her voice raspy.

Derek looked up and chewed his steak slowly before answering with a gruff, “Yes.”

Her lipstick smile seemed strained. “I’m Lydia Martin. I believe your sister told you about me?”

The piece of steak on Derek’s fork paused in mid air. Suddenly it smelled too heavily of pepper and salt, as if drenched in the condiments. He put it back down on his plate in disgust. “Yes, she did.” He looked towards the blonde. “Erica Reyes?”

Reyes had the courage to stick out a hand to shake. “Guilty as charged.”

Derek didn’t take the offered hand, instead glaring at the two women before him. He hadn’t signed up for this. All he wanted was a free meal in peace, god damn it. He hadn’t even gotten to his potatoes yet.

Reyes smile slowly turned into a frown, and she took back her hand slowly, her other clenching into a fist, her shoulders visibly tensing. The tall, dark skinned man next to her touched her arm lightly, and she visibly relaxed at the small contact. It appeared that she had just as much trouble handling her control as she had a few months ago.

Martin, for her part, didn’t flinch. Her guide, a boy looking like some teen model with perfectly gelled hair, looked bored, his hands in his pockets as he stared off to the side. Obviously no need to impulse control with this one as she said, “I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner. Laura had just talked so much about you, that I thought it was only polite that we introduced ourselves. I can only guess that you’ve come here to look for a bond.”

It was only polite, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t irritating. But Derek wasn’t entirely without social grace, even given a lapse in politeness out of sheer shock. He nodded sternly. “Nice to meet you both. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend.” He stood up with his plate in hand, walking briskly between them, forcing them to step back as he made a beeline for the garbage.

“I’m sorry for your loss!” called out Reyes hesitantly, her voice paper thin.

Derek halted in his tracks, looking over his shoulder to simply glare. His mouth tasted of the blood of his steak, the air reeked of too many scents of food, the sweat of people, the chemical bleach used on the floors, the light hint of vomit cleaned up earlier today. The overhead lights were glaring, and Derek could see every pore on Erica’s makeuped nose, every individual eyebrow on Lydia’s perfectly plucked head. The light murmuring of voices around him and the clanking of dishes from the kitchen picked up, cascading around him to an almost deafening roar. 

He set his plate down onto an empty table with a harsh clang, and stalked towards the fire exit door, ignoring the pointed looks, straight out of the building. He jumped into his camaro but didn’t start it up, just simply closed his eyes and breathed. Count back from ten, count back from a hundred. The leather smell of the seats started to slowly fade away, and his grip on the steering wheel loosened. Eventually he calmed down enough to grab the phone out of his pocket, and without really thinking he pulled up Laura’s number.

He stared down at it for a moment before laughing without mirth. Oh god, how weak was he? He couldn’t even talk to a couple of teenage girls. He’d been more smooth as a forever horny teenager than he was now apparently. Great first impression there, Sentinel Hale.

He threw the phone down to the seat next to him in disgust, started the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I look forward to your comments! They are the ink which keeps my pen writing! I feast on them like a dark being feasts on souls! =w=


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles, we’re not done talking!” Derek stood and clasped the Guide’s forearm.
> 
> Stiles just glared. “You either let me go or I’m going to knee you so hard in the groin you won’t be _able_ to bond, because your dick will be broken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, my lovely beta had real life obligations, but now this is totally edited and totally ready to be put up~ Hope you enjoy!

Their last meeting (and somehow only their third) had served as a reminder for Stiles about just how hard it may be to bond with Derek. He certainly didn’t think that it would be as effortless as Scott’s, and cringed at the thought of it taking as long as Jackson’s. There were, of course, good reasons for Stiles not to rush into a bonding. It was said to be a drastic change in a relationship, a lifetime commitment, and divorces among Sentinels were said to have pretty long lasting effects. The question was, really, why rush? All the brochures and counselors suggested a nice, long, easy going courtship, to make sure there was really a compatibility between Sentinel and Guide.

Stiles would be glad to list the reasons why that was pretty much bullshit.

1\. Stiles was a teenage boy who had been taken away from his best friend, his father, and his entire life pretty much, all thanks to a backwards system that swore to ‘protect’ Guides by means of imprisonment. The sooner he was able to get freedom, aka the sooner he bonded, the better. He was sick of playing Rapunzel in this Tower, and if the only way out was to bond with Derek? So be it.

2\. That of course, leads to the question as to why it had to be Derek. Stiles had read several theories as to bonding compatibility, from pheromones to genetics to soul mates, but the one thing that he did note was that courtships tended to last 1 to 3 months, and the number one indication of success in bonding was instincts. Those that felt a clear connection from the first meeting, who felt an urge to bond, tended to hold the closest connections. Waffling in and out of a relationship and long courtships tended to be a clear indication of a weak bond. Stiles felt the instinct, or at least he saw the signs. So, the sooner, the better.

3\. Derek was obviously going to seduce and fuck up the life of some other poor, unsuspecting Guide if Stiles let him go. It was an unsettling fact, but it was true. If someone played housewife to Derek’s neglectful husband, lives may be ruined here. Stiles felt like he was one of the few people who could fight his way to get somewhere with Derek, not just lie down and take it. Despite the fact that, to bond, he would have to do some lying down and some taking...

4\. Though not really a strong reason at all, but one worthy of observation, Stiles was a virgin. Hell, he’d barely been kissed, and definitely not since coming to the tower where Guide x Guide relationships were pretty much banned. So if he was looking forward to some hot bonding sex, well, who could blame him? He was only 17 after all. Not a priority, but definitely a factor.

In conclusion, getting to bond was on the top of his list right now. And the easiest way Stiles could think to bond? Seduction. If he could get Derek to sleep with him, the Sentinel would be biologically conditioned to cement the bond. They both would be, truth be told. Or, well, at least that’s what this article was saying.

_Sentinels have an almost primal urge to bond with compatible Guides. Perhaps the reason behind this can be found within their nature. As is well known, Sentinels have heightened senses, including superior vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. When well trained, a Sentinel will be able to pick up a scent miles away or hear a noise undetectable to the average human ear. These abilities do not come without a cost, however. During pubescence and high stress situations, a number of incidents may occur._

_A Sentinel may be at risk of:_

_1. **Zoning** : A state where their senses overwhelm them and they go into a hypnotized state._

_2\. Pain from too intense of sensory information, particularly common during the first stages of developing their power, usually occurring during puberty._

_3. **Beserking** : A highly emotional state, usually brought on by a life threatening situation, wherein Sentinels will turn animalistic and violent, destroying everything and anyone that gets in their path to eliminate the threat._

_To combat these symptoms a Sentinel must go through years of government regulated training and usually will attempt to bond with a Guide. A Guide’s power can vary from person to person, including empathy and emotional manipulation, but all Guides have the ability to calm Sentinels, especially those to whom they are bonded. This calming effect can be best administered by touch, though the mere presence of a Guide will have an effect._

_It has been proposed that this is the driving force to a Sentinels need to bond. They will find a Guide which is compatible to them, driven by some unknown instinct, and either sexually or platonically form a bond with this person. Bonds are strong telepathic links which will last a lifetime, until one participant of the bond dies or a trained Guide severs the bond, usually with drastic mental side effects to the Sentinel in particular._

_The urge to bond will often come out in a sexual drive, and so government regulation is heavily used to set up bonds within most countries, making sure both participants are coherent and willing to court before bonding. Still, the moment which leads to bonding is most often a sexual one, a result from physical intimacy or, less likely, high stress situations._

Since Stiles couldn’t think of any ‘high stress situations’ likely to occur within the Tower, physical intimacy it was. Let nature take its course. Which of course meant that Stiles had to first initiate physical intimacy, or seduce Derek enough to take that first step. The later seemed like a much safer bet, given that Stiles was quite pleased with his throat intact.

Which, of course, resulted in a word document. With bullet points and research links and detailed plans. Man, maybe Stiles would write a book or something afterwards. _A Beginner's Guide to Bonding_ or _Bonding for Dummies_ or something.

“Operation Seduce Derek?” came a voice behind him, and Stiles swiveled around with a barely constrained shout. 

Okay, so maybe researching in the library wasn’t such a great idea, but there had been reference books he hadn’t been able to take out. And there had been no one there, so sue him for starting up the word document before going back to his dorm. Didn’t mean that Matt had to sneak up on him and read his personal documents, no it did not.

“Gah, man, can you see when a guy is doing something private?” Stiles asked, turning around with a scowl to save his document and exit out.

Matt, obviously uncaring and obviously a douche, just leaned over with a smirk. “Why is pheromones bolded?”

Stiles bit his lip and took a breath. God, he so did not want to deal with this right now. “None of your business, that’s why Matt. Why don’t you go take a picture of the girl’s in gym right now? Isn’t that what you do with your free time?”

Matt had only arrived at the Tower two months ago, and was known for two things; a love of photography and a love of women. At least that’s what Stiles assumed, given that the guy was caught taking candid shots of the female students. He had been without a camera since, and Stiles couldn’t help but get skeeved out by him. Sure, Stiles could appreciate the female form just fine, but he wasn’t about to stick a camera up someone’s skirt.

Matt, to his credit, didn’t look embarrassed. “I just wanted to know what you were up to, that’s all. No need to get defensive, Stilinski.”

Stiles just rolled his eyes and picked up his books to put in the reshelving section. He didn’t have to talk about his courtship to anyone he didn’t want to. A lot of Guides preferred that, not wanting the embarrassment of admitting when things turned sour. It had been a part of the reason why Allison had asked Scott not to tell Stiles about theirs, and Stiles totally got how awkward it would had been to talk to Allison, knowing she had dumped his best bud, or vice versa.

Matt, cool as can be and hands in his pocket, decided that the silent treatment was somehow Stiles way of inviting him to chat, because he followed along asking, “So, have you heard from Allison at all?”

“Didn’t know you guys were friends,” Stiles bit out, feeling a bit hostile for the girl who was, all legality aside, his sister in law.

“Oh, well, you know. We were in the same tower before our transfer, I just knew her back then.” If Matt was sensing Stiles distaste, he was obviously not about to show it.

“Well then, I don’t see why you wouldn’t just talk to her yourself about it. If you were good friends and all.” Stiles shoved the books back on the shelf and turned his heel to leave.

Matt simply followed. “Not really friends, just curious as to who she ended up with. That’s all.” He sounded nonchalant about it, as if he couldn’t care less.

Stiles snorted. Yeah, right, if Matt really didn’t care he wouldn’t have asked Stiles. “Look, what can I tell you, confidentiality and all that. We didn’t get that close before she bonded.” Which was, actually, the truth, though hopefully rectified when Stiles was freed via a bond of his own.

“Oh, well, that’s fine then.” Matt stopped in front of Stiles’ dorm as he swiped his card for access. “Just wanted to see if you knew anything. I’ll get going then.”

“Yup.” Stiles didn’t even bother to look back as he shut the door behind him. He had seductions to plan out, no time for idle chit chat.

+++

“Why do you smell?” Derek asked, his nose scrunching up. No, he did not look childish, it was an instinctual reaction.

Stiles looked up quizzically, his eyebrows arching and his hips twitching into a small smile. “What do you mean? How do I smell?”

“You smell...” Delicious, mouth watering, delectable, irresistible, like sex, like _claim me_ \- “Weird.”

Stiles’ small smile twitched up a few degrees, and he leaned over the coffee table between them. “A bad kind of weird, or a good kind of weird?” He wiggled his eyebrows in emphasis.

God dammit, was Stiles flirting with him now? The kid couldn’t stand two minutes without making a _Star Wars_ reference, and all the sudden he was playing seductor? Derek should have known that agreeing to three meetings a week was going to bite him in the ass. Stiles was getting cocky.

“Just tell me why you smell weird,” Derek grunted, his back stiff as he tried to reign back his instincts. He spotted his wolf pacing across the floor.

“Hard to tell you when I don’t know what the scent is,” Stiles quipped back, crossing his arms smugly.

Yeah, definitely getting cocky.

“Like...” Arousal pouring from an offered neck, legs stretched open, bedsheets after an amazing round of sex. “Sweat.”

“Oh, well...” Stiles tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I was working out before we talked? Do you think that could be it?”

“Yeah, maybe.” He scratched his neck and looked back to his wolf, its tail thrashing back and forth as it continued to pace. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“What, workout?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I know you obviously like them a bit on the scrawny side, but I gotta tell you I’m not a stick underneath my shirt.” He pinched the chest of the tee he had on, the movement sending a waft of sweat soaked scent coming up from to his neck.

Derek gritted his teeth. “You know what I mean.”

“Why? Is it really that hard not to smell me? Can’t you just,” Stiles circled his fingers, “reel your senses back a bit?”

Derek just glared at that. Obviously if he could reel back his senses he would have at this point. And normally he _did_ have better control than this, but there was something about Stiles’ scent, something more than mere sweat... Or perhaps the mere fact that he was a Guide was enough to make Derek feel this way. The kid was right there, ripe for the taking, and Derek wanted nothing more than to take, take, _take_.

“Or, you know...” Stiles ducked his head and looked up with half lidded eyes. “I could always help you, if you want. Might be good practice for when we’re bonded, right?”

 _If_ they bonded, Derek had to bite back the urge to say. But who was he kidding? No one would want him. It had to be someone as desperate, or whatever the reasoning was, as Stiles to want to bond with Derek. Well, maybe that wasn’t true, he had had plenty of offers for a courtship. He wasn’t unaware of his looks, he had been flirted with plenty of times, and knew just what the public view of him was. But if they had found out just how unwilling Derek was for a relationship? They would either run, or worse, try to attempt to ‘fix him.’

And Stiles, well, Stiles had somewhat claimed he could do that. Fix Derek, but that was a shot in the dark if there ever was one. The sentinel didn’t even know if he could be fixed. But maybe, deep down in a part of himself that he didn’t let out very often, he owed it to Stiles to try.

So he nodded. His wolf stopped pacing and sat down, eyeing both of them with a steady gaze.

Stiles looked pretty shocked at that. “Oh, okay! Uh...” He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans, glancing at Derek’s wolf and then back to him. “Okay, well I’m going to need to touch you. Is that okay with you?”

“I’m not a prom date Stiles, you don’t have to treat me like I’m a fucking flower,” Derek grumbled back, his brows low.

“Oh, well they always tell us-”

“Yeah, I know how Guides work. There’s plenty down in the precinct for Sentinel use, and I know how it’s best to initiate with touch.” He moved over on the couch to make room for Stiles and held out an arm in a tentative offering, pushing up the sleeve. “So go ahead and do it.”

Stiles looked a bit taken aback before his face broke out in a smug grin. “Okay, whatever you say, Sentinel Hale.” He slid onto the couch, forcing Derek to move back a few inches to avoid contact, making Stiles raise a brow, but not comment. “Now usually they tell us to ask the Sentinel where they feel comfortable touching-”

“Obviously my arm,” Derek said, pushing said arm forward.

“Well, I mean, there is a lot of arm territory I could touch here. I could hold touch your hand, for example.” He let his fingertips trace the back to Derek’s hand in a whisper of a touch, causing the Sentinel to close his eyes and suppress a shiver. “Or I could touch your forearm, of course, that’s always a popular choice,” he continued, his voice growing softer and he moved his fingertips upwards, trailing the skin as he did so. His fingers were long and lean and incredibly soft. “Or your bicep, of course, though skin on skin contact is preferred-”

“Anywhere,” Derek gritted out, refusing to open his eyes, trying to concentrate. The smell was so much stronger now that Stiles was closer. If this was how it would be every time, he wasn’t sure if having a Guide would help with his concentration. It was so hard to think of anything but that smell, ripe with sex and need and _take him, take him now_ -

Stiles gripped Derek’s forearm loosely, and the Sentinel could feel the effect immediately. Clarity sprang through him like a fresh water from a muddy drain, washing away his anxiety.

“Now, I want you to imagine something peaceful,” came Stiles’ voice, surprisingly close.

Derek opened his eyes only to find that Stiles had leaned forward and had begun whispering in his ear, giving the Sentinel a delicious view of the Guide’s neck.

“It can be anything you want. A car engine, a thermometer-”

“The moon.” Derek was surprised to find he had said it. He hadn’t thought of that in a long time.

Stiles’ breath hitched in surprise from being cut off. If Derek had to guess, the Guide was probably saying some lines he had memorized from class. Pretty standard things.

“My family usually has wolves for animals, so my mother used the moon,” Derek explained. It was something he himself had never really used, preferring something as simple as counting down from ten, but somehow it felt right, to tell Stiles to use that.

“Okay. I can work with that.” Derek could hear the way Stiles licked his lips nervously. “Is it getting brighter?”

“She used to make it go from full to new.” The inside joke was that they had werewolf blood in them. His mother used to love making wolf jokes, going so far as to call her children cubs and the family the ‘Hale Pack,’ his father an honorary member despite the fact that his animal was a badger.

“Okay then, right now it’s a full moon.” Stiles voice was lulling, and Derek found his eyes closing again, this time almost drowsily. “It’s too bright, and slowly it starts to change, a slice at a time, as if eclipsed. As it gets darker you feel your senses pull back. It turns into waning- uh... waning...”

“Gibbous,” Derek offered calmly.

Stiles gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah, right, waning gibbous. I knew that.” His fingers started to message Derek’s forearm slowly. “Waning gibbous, and then it slowly fades some more, all the way into a half moon. Your senses are pulled back, slowly... slowly...”

Derek could feel them receding, Stiles’ scent no longer sharp against his nose, no long feeling every individual callous of the Guide’s fingertips. It was working.

“Until the moon is just a tiny sliver, until it’s completely dark.” Derek could feel Stiles moving away. “There, isn’t that-”

He reached out and grabbed the teen by his shirt, his eyes snapping open. Stiles looked back and forth between Derek’s clenched fist and his face, for once at a loss for words. Derek couldn’t help but smirk at that before moving in for a kiss.

It turned out that Stiles was not only very receptive as a Guide, but also as a kisser. Which was good, because when it came to kissing Derek was very much into taking, claiming, possessing, with open mouths and heavy breaths and tongues that slid and slicked. He wasn’t sure if this was the kid’s first kiss, or just the latest in a long line. And oh, the thought of Stiles swapping spit with some snot nosed teen was enough to set Derek’s teeth on edge, to drive his hands to yank Stiles’ on his lap, pressing their chests together, laying a possessive palm on the back of the Guide’s neck.

Stiles didn’t complain though, up until the moment where Derek began to slide the teen’s shirt upwards. “Hey!” he exclaimed, breaking the kiss, forcing Derek to begin to suck bruises into his neck, continuing his hands’ work. “Wait, stop, we’re on camera dude!” Stiles grabbed both Derek’s wrists in a bid to stop the Sentinel.

Derek nuzzled Stiles’ ear. “You said skin to skin contact makes it easier, right?”

“Yeah, but there’s a point where it gets a bit- no, get your hands out of my pants, there are _people watching this_!”

Derek bit an earlobe, muttering, “Then what do you suggest? You’re obviously hard.” He rocked his hips forward, eliciting a hiss of pleasure as their erections rubbed against each other through layers of jeans.

“If we’re gonna do this, we gotta- fuck, stop sucking on my neck- we gotta do it right,” Stiles panted, his scent already heady with arousal. “We gotta call and get into a honeymoon suite.”

And at that Derek felt himself shutting down. Honeymoon suites were only used when a Sentinel and their Guide were bonding. The completely isolated room had soundproof walls, air ventilation to keep out distracting scents, easy contact with the outside world in case of emergency, and, most of all, complete privacy. And for Stiles to so easily suggest it could only mean one thing.

Derek pulled back with a glare. “You’re manipulating me.”

“What?” Stiles blinked heavily, obviously dazed.

“I can feel it... your arousal.” It not only coated the air, it was also a current under Derek’s skin in each point where their skin touched, Stiles’ hands still clasping Derek’s wrists.

Stiles raised a brow. “Well that’s probably because our hips are grinding together.”

Derek yanked his hands away from Stiles’ touch. “No you little shit, you’re using your empathy to make me feel this way.”

Derek’s wolf grew tense, its lips curling in a snarl. From the very edge of his vision Derek could see the misty outline of Stiles’ squirrel dive under the couch.

Stiles, for his part, glowed with anger. “What, you think the only way you would ever want to sex me up is if I’m _forcing_ you to?”

“I didn’t say that,” Derek gritted out, “but either you’re doing this one purpose or you don’t have control over your empathy yet, because I can feel it, Stiles. I can feel it where we’re connected.”

Stiles shook his head in disgust and moved off Derek’s lap, and though his inner Sentinel howled from the loss Derek kept himself still as the Guide did so. He had better control than this. He wasn’t a teen with a hair trigger, he was a fully grown man who had agency over his desires.

“Did you ever think that maybe we were beginning our bond and you were simply sensing how I was feeling?” Stiles shot out, running a hand through his hair. “Reading each other’s emotions is one of the first signs of bonding, dumbass, of course you were going to feel my arousal.”

Derek clenched his fists. “What, like you would even know if you were losing control of your empathy? Just how many Sentinels have you made out with before, Stiles? I would just love to know.”

He could see a ripple of anger shake his wolf, its eyes sharp as it continued to silently growl. Stiles’ squirrel was still nowhere in sight.

“Wow.” Stiles tsked. “Wow, you’re really going for that, huh? That Guides can’t keep it in their pants whenever there’s a big, strong Sentinel in the same room? Unbelievable,” he muttered, grabbing his hoodie off the couch and making his way to the door.

“Stiles, we’re not done talking!” Derek stood and clasped the Guide’s forearm.

Stiles just glared. “You either let me go or I’m going to knee you so hard in the groin you won’t be _able_ to bond, because your dick will be broken.”

“Stiles, we have to talk about-”

“Nothing! We have to talk about nothing!” Stiles shouted back, shoving himself back to try to get Derek to let go. “You don’t want to fuck me, that’s fine. That’s more than fine, that’s just fucking typical, huh? Even with biology on my side I can’t get laid.”

“Stiles, that’s not what I said!” Derek was shouting too, sure that his senses would be going haywire if it weren’t for the fact that he still had a grip on Stiles, and even as they fought the mere touch of his Guide- no, of _a_ Guide, any Guide- was enough to keep himself in check.

“Then what is it, huh Derek? What could possibly keep you from bonding now? You don’t care about it, it’s just a step for you to get back your job. What does it matter if it happens today, or tomorrow, or anytime? You’re stuck here till I graduate, I’m stuck in this stupid Tower until I bond, I would think the sooner the better!”

“You don’t know what it means,” Derek insisted, and suddenly with that the anger drained out of him. He let go of Stiles’ arm in disgust. “You think it’s just a ticket to freedom, but it’s so much more than that. It’s life or death, Stiles.”

The Guide just rolled his eyes. “So everyone keeps telling me. Don’t think I’m gonna just swallow that bull-”

“No, god dammit, listen to me,” Derek demanded, forcing Stiles into stunned silence through sheer strength of his voice, sheer ferocity of his eyes as he glared. “When you’re my Guide I’m weak against you, I can’t be reasonable. When you’re my Guide I’m going to want to do anything to protect you, even if it means sacrificing my own life-” The lump in his throat threatened to choke his words, but he had to get this out, had to make Stiles understand. “Even if it means letting my family die.”

Stiles lips parted in confusion, and his eyebrows dipped as he took a hesitant step forward. “What happened to you?”

Derek couldn’t do this, not now. Maybe not ever. So he avoided Stiles’ outstretched hand, as if the touch was poison to his skin, and simply walked out the door, not looking back.

+++

“And then he just walked out the door! Didn’t even look back!” Stile finished explaining, his arms flailing. “I mean, I’m no expert on Sentinels, so maybe I missed something there, but I have no idea why he would react that way!”

“Stiles-”

“I mean, a little suggestion, that’s all it was. Not like he couldn't’ say no, not like I was _forcing_ him into bonding with me!”

“Stiles-”

“And to go so far as to say that I was? That I was using my empathy magic to make him all hot for me? Fuck, I know that he was interested from the get go, he may have super smelling but I could pick up his interest from a mile away-”

“Stiles!” Scott shouted into the Skype screen.

Stiles head snapped back forward. “Yeah?”

“Stiles, you basically _were_ trying to force him to bond with you.”

And that was when Stiles’ stomach dropped. “What?”

Scott rubbed a hand across his mouth with a sigh. “Look dude, you tried to manipulate him by being sweaty, right? You worked out before talking to him just for that. Trying to do that pheromone thing you read about and make him instinctively want you.”

“Yeah... and your point?”

“Dude, that’s not okay!” Scott looked- fuck, he looked _disgusted_. “I told you what bonding meant, right? It’s not something you should take as simple as getting laid, dude. I know it sucks-”

“No dude, you don’t know.” If Scott was allowed to get mad at Stiles, Stiles was sure as hell going to get mad at Scott. “You have no idea what it’s like to be locked away from your friends, your family, everyone you care about. You get to go home on weekends, you get to go out after school ends. I don’t. You have no idea what I went through, what I’m going through.”

Scott grimaced. “Dude, I might not have experienced all that, but I lost you too you know? And you shouldn’t just ignore what Derek’s going through just because the system has screwed you over. Christ, did you even try talking to him?”

“No,” Stiles admitted, still feeling mullish. “Beyond the fact that he apparently never wants to bond, I did not.”

“There dude, that’s your problem. Guy may be an uptight ass, but you don’t know. Maybe if you explained your side of the story he would be a bit more sympathetic to bonding earlier.” And there was Scott’s lawful good mentality coming out, a paladin in shining, fucking armor. “Field bonding is bad enough, but when a Sentinel is being coerced into it while in a courtship? Come on man, you know better.” 

Stiles did know better, but that didn’t mean he was going to act upon that knowledge. “Look, Sentinels get all the power. They own everything, they get the final say, I’m suppose to follow whoever I bond with into hell and back and never complain. So what if I want the say for when we bond? Is that really so bad?”

“Dude, Derek is obviously not going to force you to bond. It should be a decision between the both of you. If you want a quicker bond, maybe you should find another Sentinel.”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, right. All Sentinels want to bond, man. I think out of anyone you-”

And that was when Stiles bit his tongue. Because he may be pissed off at Scott, but talking about his best friend’s parents was a definite no. Because Scott still felt betrayed that his Sentinel father had left his norm mother to bond with a Guide. Especially since his father had been courting said Guide behind his mother back. Oh, Sentinel Public Relations had a lot to say about that. How courtship in no way guarantees bonding, that it was important for a Sentinel of any age to try to bond, how it would have been silly to break up a marriage over an unsure thing. Until, of course, it wasn’t so unsure. And then Scott’s dad had been whisked away to join back with the Navy with his new Guide, and Melissa had agreed to a confidentiality clause on the grounds that she would have sole custody, per Scott’s request.

Yeah, there was a lot of things that Stiles hated about the system, but Scott hated them too.

Stiles sighed. “Okay dude, I get your point. But he’s going to have to bond with me sooner or later for his job, right?”

“Yeah, so maybe you should actually talk to him about it. You know, like a normal courtship is suppose to go. Allison wasn’t so sure about bonding, but we talked about it from day one. And then a month later we decided to take the leap, and it was amazing, dude.” Oh no, Scott was starting to get that dreamy look in his eyes again.

“Yeah, I know, all Sentinels want to bond. But I was thinking... maybe Derek has bonded before. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to bond now.”

It had been a thought floating in the back of his mind for awhile. What had Derek said? _Even if it means letting my family die._ Had bonding somehow resulted in his family’s death? Stiles couldn’t possibly think of how that would happen, except...

Well, except if the Guide had started the fire. And Derek had somehow let them.

So yeah, for all his whining and complaining to Scott, he couldn’t help but wonder what Derek had been through. If perhaps bonding wasn’t what the Sentinel needed. But Stiles was trustworthy, right? Sure, he may try his hand at a seduction or two, but he wasn’t about to burn Derek’s family down.

But did Derek know that?

+++

“So how long have you been in town, Derek?” Sheriff Stilinski asked pleasantly, glancing down at the reports that Derek had faxed over the day before. 

There would be plenty in those reports on Derek’s successes, his clear cut work ethic and willingness to take long hours. But buried not so deep would be plenty of red flags of a Sentinel that was on the edge of losing control. But Beacon Hills was a sleepy town. How much action was he really going to see?

“A little over a week, sir.” Derek didn’t fidget under pressure, didn’t run his mouth or sweat. No, he had long since learned to use pressure has a tool, to harden under it and become more solid, make his voice sound strong and sure. Working with Victoria Argent had been great practice for that, up until the point she had fired his ass.

“And, as I understand it, you’re currently courting a Guide?” The Sheriff looked up expectantly.

Derek gave a curt nod. “Stiles, sir.” He knew there had been no way the teen had kept that tidbit of information from his father.

“Well, good for you. I always knew that Stiles had a bit of a hero worship thing with you as a kid.” The problem with the Sheriff was that he always sounded sincere, even when every one of Derek’s instinct was telling him the man wasn’t. “I hope everything goes smoothly.” There was a threat there, behind the words. A definite threat, probably involving shotguns and Stiles’ broken heart if it wasn’t for the current professional setting of a job interview.

Derek didn’t have to stop himself from wincing, but there was a definite urge. Right, smooth was not how he would explain their last meeting. Or the fact that they had both called to cancel their next. But maybe that’s all they needed, a few days to cool their heads. After that they could talk about...

Well, about something.

“I hope so too,” he agreed, and was only vaguely surprised that it wasn’t a lie. Well, his career depended on this, after all.

“So you’re trying to obtain a position in the station I see.” The Sheriff sorted through some of Derek’s report. He didn’t glance up as he added, “Thinking that being a family friend and the possible bondmate of my son will get you an in?”

Derek would have sputtered at that, if he was given to sputter. Instead he said calmly, “I was hoping that my work history would speak for itself.”

“Yes, it certainly does say a lot.” The Sheriff halted at a particular page, his face clouding over. “Especially the circumstances that led you to coming back to California.” He glanced up, his glass blue eyes kind. “I’m sorry for your loss. I would have attended the service myself, if I’d known.”

Derek simply nodded. He had nothing to add to that, and if the Sheriff thought he was trying to get into this job through pity he was sorely mistaken.

“Still, I can’t ignore the _several_ instances of you losing control of your senses, especially given your latest berserking which nearly led to a suspect death.” The Sheriff’s voice was hard as flint now, all sympathy lost. “And when contacting the LA Tower we were told that you had been put on probation because of these incidents.” He let the papers fall with a soft thud. “Making you unqualified to be an officer without the recommended bonding of a Guide.”

Derek did not panic. This wasn’t a life or death situation, this wasn’t the worst crisis he had faced, not by far. But still, his veins ran cold. “Sir, but if you would only see my record of-”

“Of being one of the best damn officers LA has to offer, I know. Argent told me that much.” The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I would love to offer you a job here, son. God knows what it would mean to me to have another Hale back on the force. But this is basically the equivalent of a college town, and my officers already have to handle unbonded Sentinels that haven’t gained control. Which is why, to be honest, it’s a bit of a policy that every officer have a bonded Guide as their partner. That’s just the way it is.”

Derek knew it was a lost cause. Even if he bonded with Stiles, the kid was still in high school. And by the time he graduated, well, Derek had no doubt he would move back to LA. Which left only one option, and Derek was dreading the mere mention of it.

“Have you considered teaching?” asked the Sheriff, reaching for a pamphlet in his desk drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll learn that not everything is as it appears...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silence that followed held the expectation of Stiles’ answer. Perhaps something of a counter apology, or a thanks for Derek being so polite about the whole thing. Maybe an offer to sweep it under the rug, let bygones be bygones, something along those lines and all that jazz. But Derek obviously wasn’t counting on the fact that Stiles was _furious_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little house keeping from last chapter! I was actually super inspired by two songs, and I totally forgot to mention them.
> 
> Inspiration for Derek last chapter was [Clarity by Zedd ft. Foxes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9Q7GISatW0), and I downloaded a super classy instrumental sounding version from reborn-gp but I can't find it anymore so I just linked you to the radio version, which isn't nearly as awesome but there you go. The lyrics should be pretty self explanatory!
> 
> Last chapter Stiles is a bit sillier with [Just a Little Bit by Kids 88](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1cnifqa9LEw), which, again, listening to the lyrics and understanding Sentinel/Guide bonding (which I will explain in text when such an event occurs) (though it is basically sex), pretty easy to tell where the inspiration comes from. And thinking of Stiles while listening to this song is awesome for a good lol!
> 
> As always, thanks forever for my lovely beta who I would be lost without, and the undying support from some of my favorite readers <3

“So he’s going to teach?” Stiles threw the baseball up in the air before catching it again, lying on on his dorm bed. He held his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he juggled the ball back and forth.

“Don’t think he’s exactly pleased about it,” answered the Sheriff, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Certainly was scowling hard enough when I handed him the pamphlet.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t offer him a job. He may be your future son-in-law one day.” To be honest, Stiles had expected Derek to get the job, policy on bonding or not. He had pegged his dad as the overprotective sort, not that there had been past relationships to compare it to. Having Derek on the force would have been an easy way to keep him under the Sheriff’s thumb. “Did you at least give him the shotgun speech?”

“No, not during an official interview. That will just have to wait until after you’ve bonded and come home.”

Stiles scowled. His dad always spoke about bonding as if it was a matter of course, which obviously it was, but that didn’t mean he had to talk about it so casually. “ _If_ we bond, that is.”

“Well if you don’t want to bond, don’t think that I’m the one pushing you down the aisle. You take your own time to find someone you feel a connection to, you hear?” The sound of crinkling tinfoil snapped over the phone receiver, and when the Sheriff spoke again it was obvious his mouth was half full. “Why, if anyone had pushed your mother to bond before she met me-”

“What are you eating?”

The Sheriff paused for a moment before loudly swallowing. “Why son, I can’t see how that’s any business but my own.”

“Is it a cheeseburger?” Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Is it a _bacon_ cheeseburger?” The Sheriff’s diet was the only thing that could get him to say bacon with such disgust.

“I’ve been good this week!” the Sheriff argued. “I can’t live life on tofu and soy milk, Stiles. I need to live a little!”

“You’re not gonna live at all if you don’t stick to my diet,” Stiles quipped back, feeling no sympathy. “You better not be hiding junk food in the house when I get back, or we will have words, father-oh-mine.” He sighed and muttered, “First Derek drama, now this...”

“Derek drama?” his father picked up, suddenly all authority now. “Trouble in paradise? Anything I, or my shotgun, need to know about?”

Ah, there was the overprotective dad Stiles knew and loved. “Not that this gets you out of the diet discussion quite yet, but yeah, we had a... bump.” Or perhaps a plane crash would be more of an apt description. “It’s just about how, uh, fast we want to bond.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised he wants to bond at all. Especially after suffering such a loss just a few months back.”

“What, getting on work probation?” Stiles shrugged. “I’d hardly call that a loss, especially since he needs to bond to get it back.”

There was a heavy silence from the other end of the line before his father said, “Derek didn’t tell you why he came to California, did he?”

Stiles stood up, the baseball rolling to the floor. “What do you mean? ...Dad, what do you mean?”

+++

“Our facilities are, of course, some of the best in the State,” Deaton continued, his voice hypnotically smooth. “The government pays for the best of the best, and that’s what we like to think we give our students. Full information of their abilities, as well as a wide range of subjects for them to learn.” He clasped his hands. “You’ve read our pamphlet though, I’m sure.”

Yes, Derek had read the Tower’s fucking _pamphlet_. If he had to read another nauseating upbeat booklet in his lifetime it would be too soon. “I’m well aware of your policies, having attended the school myself. I was told that, with my bonding situation, placement would be fairly easy.”

“Of course. We can always use trained Sentinels, and with your background in law enforcement I believe you’ll be a valuable addition to the staff.” Deaton looked down into Derek’s reports, exactly the same as what had been given to the Sheriff. “Some might be worried about your history of control, but in such a peaceful environment as this I can’t see that being much of a problem.” He looked up again, his lidded eyes suddenly sharp. “Unless, of course, you feel that it may be an issue?”

Derek simply shrugged. No use lying to an empath, especially one as powerful as Deaton. “I’m not saying that I have the best control, but with Guides constantly around me I can’t see it being much of an issue. Especially if I were to bond before teaching.” Which may not be likely, but Derek had to look long term here. Bonding was the reason he came back to this god forsaken Tower, and it was going to happen eventually.

Deaton flipped through a few pages. “I’m sure of your abilities, Sentinel Hale, but the school board would be more easily placated by news of your bonding. Though you have a few months until that is a worry, since I couldn’t offer you a position until summer. I’m sure you remember that we host a year round facility, and will thus be needing your assistance as soon as graduation is over. That’s when members of our current Sentinel staff will leave with their bonded Guides, and thus a time when we hire replacements.”

Derek nodded. It was, after all, a fairly efficient system. Most Sentinels who came to the Tower to bond looked only at senior students, allowing for only a few months of courtship before leaving Beacon Hills. The few Sentinels who were desperate (or perhaps curious) enough to look into the junior class were then stuck in the Tower for over a year, and thus would find work within the school. After their Guides graduated, those Sentinels would leave, allowing a new wave to take over.

Deaton paused for a minute, allowing silence to settle uneasily between them before going on. “I’m not quite sure that this is what you want out of your life, but I believe that all my staff should see this as an opportunity to learn. It may not feel as important as working in the field, but these students are our future,” he gave a soft smile, “as cliche as that sounds. Preparing these students to use their abilities, and perhaps even more importantly showing them what police work is really like, is imperative to their own futures. Though I’m sure you’re the last person I really need to tell that to.”

Derek’s shoulders grew stiff. “Yeah, I can assure you of that.” He tried to hide the venom in his words, but knew that it seeped through his emotions like a bilious cloud. He only had a moment to squint at the harsh glare of the overhead lights, to smell the herbal tea on Deaton’s breathe, before feeling himself calming. He couldn’t help but scowl at the knowledge that it was Deaton’s mere presence that could bring Derek’s senses back under his control; the Guide’s abilities were that strong.

Would Stiles ever become that powerful? It was somewhat of a terrifying thought, no matter how fleeting.

“Speaking of bonding,” Deaton continued, as if reading Derek’s thoughts, “I know that you haven’t requested a meeting with Guide Stilinski in a few days, but I wanted to let you know that a healthy courtship will also be paramount to convincing the school board to hire you. So I would highly suggest not ignoring his request for a meeting.”

“He requested a meeting?” This was the first Derek had heard of it, his cell phone dutifully on silent as he went through the interview. The Tower usually called immediately with such information, and he was sure there was a voice mail on his phone.

“Yes. If you’d like, I can schedule it right now, while you’re still in the Tower. The school day ends in just an hour.” Deaton put his hands on his keyboard, as if to do just that.

Derek shrugged. “Sure, why not.” Best get it over with now. He’d apologize, try to make up some excuse, promise a quicker bonding than the kid was obviously expecting. Really, how bad could the meeting go?

+++

Stiles normally wasn’t one for awkward silences. Awkward conversations, sure. Awkward babbling? Count him in. But silence in general was something he tended to avoid. Derek, however, seemed to take them with a sense of relief, so it was startling when the Sentinel was the one to break it.

“I wanted to apologize for the other day,” he said, and though his words sounded sincere he refused to meet Stiles’ eyes. “I was out of line with some of the things I said.”

The silence that followed held the expectation of Stiles’ answer. Perhaps something of a counter apology, or a thanks for Derek being so polite about the whole thing. Maybe an offer to sweep it under the rug, let bygones be bygones, something along those lines and all that jazz. But Derek obviously wasn’t counting on the fact that Stiles was _furious_.

So instead of polite nothings, instead of segueing his way into the topic that had him so on edge, he simply and bluntly asked, “Why didn’t you tell me she was dead?”

Derek’s face fell in disbelief. For a moment his expression was so raw, so open, like a bleeding wound. It seemed to age him, his ragged eyes and hard mouth, yet there was something in the vulnerability of that moment, like an animal offering up its belly. And quick as a flash it was gone again, replaced by a glare that ran ice cold.

“I don’t see how it has anything to do with you,” Derek answered, his voice hollow.

“How dare you say that?” Stiles snapped, his eyes glinting with rage. “How dare you sit there and say anything like that? The Hales were like my family, of course I have the right to know that Laura is dead!” He gritted his teeth, trying to remain calm, knowing that his emotions could set off Derek: one of the downside of the being an empath. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists.

Laura had been like a cousin to him. She had watched over him and Derek when their parents were busy, had teased that Stiles had a crush on Derek until the younger boy had nearly cried. Had snuck into the kitchen to get them snacks, had taken the blame when they had really screwed up. Stiles had always known she was going to be a Sentinel, because she also looked out for everyone, and that’s what a Sentinel was suppose to do. And now she was dead, and he wanted to know why Derek thought Stiles didn’t have the right to know that.

But the man refused to answer.

“You told me she was fine,” Stiles muttered, his voice gritty with disgust. “I asked about her and you said she was fine. Fuck, you even asked about my Dad afterwards. What the hell? Why would you lie like that? What the fuck were you even thinking!”

Derek shrugged and looked away. Stiles could barely believe what he felt from the man, or rather what he didn’t feel. Not one shred of guilt, not one ounce of sorrow. Just bitterness at being found out, anger at Stiles’ accusations. The Sentinel’s wolf had its hackles raised, a silent growl curling around its lips.

“No, you don’t get to do this,” Stiles demanded. “You don’t get to shut me out. You’re going to tell me why you didn’t tell me why Laura was dead, or I swear to god this courtship is fucking over.”

Derek still didn’t answer.

Stiles stood up and reached over, grabbing the Sentinel’s shirt and forcing him forward. He may not be as muscled as Derek, but fuck if he wasn’t an adult. He forced that cold, hazel glare back towards him. “You know I’m not fucking around here, Derek. I deserve to know the truth.”

“The truth?” Derek spat out, suddenly enraged. He grabbed Stiles’ wrist, clutching it painfully tight. “The truth is that it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Don’t I dare what? Hurt your pretty Guide feelings? Not tell you every horrible thing that’s happened to me since we last met, when you were a sniveling brat?” He leaned forward. “No. You can get out of the courtship, I don’t care. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Stiles tried to back away in surprise, only to find Derek’s hold on his wrist unrelenting. Suddenly too many emotions were coming in at once, ones that ran along the Sentinel’s surface like a lurking creature. Embarrassment, discomfort, confusion, loss. Despair. Derek was so deep in despair he was drowning in it.

There were stereotypes about Guides that were bullshit. Homemaking, femininity, things that were supposed to make them lesser; weaker. But there were some that were true, and the most broad truth of all was the pull a Guide felt when they encountered a Sentinel distressed. It was a biological tug, like a string pulled taut, reeling Stiles in before he even knew what he was doing.

Which is how he ended up not storming out, which was logical, or screaming at Derek’s face, which was reasonable, but rather curled in the Sentinel’s lap, holding him tight in an embrace. Biology had him saying, “Shh, shh, it’s alright.” His genetics had him stroking Derek’s hair, with Stiles placing his chin on the older man’s shoulder. “It’s going to be alright.”

+++

In the forefront of Derek’s mind he hated this. He hated how Stiles could change him so easily, manipulate his moods so quickly. A second ago he had wanted to tear his fingernails into the couch and rip it to shreds, bare his teeth and simply howl. But never hurt Stiles, at least not physically. Making the boy flinch from words alone was bad enough, straining against every instinct he had.

But deeply rooted in his bones he took such selfish pleasure from this. The feeling of his Guide- his, not anyone else's, a Guide all for himself- was such sweetness that he felt himself melt under Stiles’ touch. It was euphoric, the best drug a Sentinel could get lost in. He felt his anxieties slipping away. Stiles radiated calm, love, assurance. His senseless words seemed almost like a promise rather than a placating chant. Derek felt, for once in a very long time, that everything was going to be alright.

He wanted to tell Stiles everything. About the therapy he had been assigned, about his coping mechanism for Laura’s death. The shrink had said it was an alternate reality, most likely produced from the guilt Derek held for her death. Which had been, “Unhealthy, Sentinel Hale,” he had absolutely nothing to do with her death; he hadn’t even been in the same state when she had been gunned down while working a case.

But he was guilty. He had taken her family from her when Laura needed them the most, had cut off her support and her loved ones. Their mother could have trained Laura to be stronger. Their father could have helped her focus more, so that she could have more control. He had forced her to move to a strange city, cutting her off from friends, all so he could escape. Maybe she would have been more focused on her studies without the stress of moving. Maybe the Stilinski family would have eased her pain. He had refused to move back to California with her, the state now a wasteland of ash and regret. He could have been partnered with her, could have been working that case with her. Could have shoved her out of the line of fire. Could have died in her stead.

But he had failed her in all those things, and there was only one way of escaping that. He could never imagine a world with his family alive, but he could easily get lost in keeping Laura. Was that too much to ask? To have at least one family who wasn’t dead, or lost in their own mind? He had screamed at Peter to wake up until the nurses had pulled him out of the room. He needed someone, anyone, he didn’t want to be all alone. Even though he deserved it. So he had dug himself so deep into the fantasy that it hurt to get out, like shading yourself from the sun too long. It blinded him to think of Laura’s death. He ignored it, he denied it, he tried to keep it out of conversation as much as possible. Move on to the next subject.

When Stiles had asked the first time about her he hadn’t even thought twice, because in his mind Laura was doing fine. She was bonded with a nice Guide that Derek could actually stand. She was grumbling about having to visit Peter, but still dutifully went even though the man never responded. She cajoled him and teased him, called him now that he wasn’t in LA anymore. And when he did come back home she was going to visit his apartment and wrap him in a hug, a human touch that he didn’t allow anyone but his sister, his family, his only link to the human world.

But here was Stiles, so warm and pliant, holding onto him tight. Stiles, who was living, breathing flesh, not just a delusion that allowed Derek to sleep at night. Who radiated love and calm like an affectionate furnace, and who genuinely wanted Derek to be alright, to be better, as warm hearted and protective as he ever was as a child.

But Kate had seemed so loving too. So perfect, so beautiful, and in the end so deadly. She had radiated that sense of peace too, deceiving Derek’s inner Sentinel into thinking that this was what love felt like. That he had loved Kate. That Kate had loved him.

He didn’t shove Stiles off, but he did peel the Guide from his body, refusing to meet his eyes. Derek walked quietly out of the room, because there was nothing he could say. He was too broken to be fixed. And even though he felt Stiles’ distress, even though the Guide called to him like a siren’s song, to be touched and petted and loved, he denied it all. He didn’t need it. He didn’t deserve it. All he wanted was to be left alone.

As he walked out the building, he could hear Laura’s ringtone in the back of his mind. He knew if he took his phone out of his pocket he would read her name, even though her phone was disconnected by now. He knew if he put it up to his ear he would hear her voice, even though she was buried in the ground. She would chide him for leaving, urge him to go back. But she was dead and gone, and there was no changing that fact.

+++

Stiles was having trouble eating lately, and it all had to do with Sentinel Hale. He refused to see Ms. Morrell about it, and refused the suggestion for another meeting. Derek hadn’t cut off their courtship, but he hadn’t spoken to Stiles either. Even though Stiles should be the one who was mad, even though Stiles was the one who should feel hurt, betrayed, and he _did_. But that little slice of his brain that wasn’t a complete shit told him that there was more to this than Derek being an ass, that the man had lost the last functioning piece of his family to a bullet.

Stiles was having trouble talking lately, and it all had to with his own stupid self. He refused to talk to Scott about it, and refused the suggestion to call his father. He didn’t want to discuss this right now. He had fucked up, he had really fucked up, and he didn’t need anyone telling him that he did, or worse, that he didn’t. He shouldn’t have been so confrontational. He had just gotten so worked up, so angry at what he felt was a one part problem. A betrayal of his trust, Derek refusing to be honest with him and a dismissal of Stiles’ own feelings towards Laura; denying _him_ a chance to grieve her loss, too. But Stiles hadn’t even considered what Derek’s oddly casual reply to the original question about Laura’s well being might say about how the man _wasn’t_ coping. Stiles had completely missed it. He had once told Derek he was going to fix him. Fuck, he couldn’t even fix himself. He still had nightmares about his mother’s death. How could he even start to judge Derek losing Laura?

Stiles was having trouble sleeping lately, and it all had to do with the fact that he was all alone. He had once read an article about Guides not doing well in isolation, and he had certainly cut himself off from everyone around him. He didn’t need anyone reading his sorrow, and he certainly didn’t want to feel any of the pity others around him were bound to send off. He knew that, from a distance, he may have already started a bond with Derek, but it was unlikely. No matter how compatible they were, Derek would have had to have been receptive to the bond before even the thinnest of connections could be made. And it was obvious the Sentinel hated him, from head to foot.

He had taken to wandering the halls at night, walking around restlessly while the rest of his classmates slept. The unbonded Guide section of the tower was closed off anyway, so there was no restrictions to walking around. So it was during one of these walks, feeling downright miserable for himself and his plight, that he noticed that one of the doors that led to the other parts of the Tower had a green light blinking by the card reader, instead of the usual red.

Stiles father had always taught him to be alert when something was wrong. It could be a door malfunction, a technical error. And instead of trying to find a staff member, which is what a good Guide should do, Stiles didn’t even think before he stepped out of the door, trying to figure out who would want to unlock a door at night.

Perhaps it was a Guide who was trying to escape. Perhaps Stiles should follow that lead. Derek may not be receptive to a request for a meeting, but perhaps going to the man’s hotel room (Stiles had seen the name on the keys Derek had once slipped in his pocket, knew exactly where it was) was a better way to confront the Sentinel. And sure, Stiles might get a slap on the wrist for it, but as long as he came back he could just chalk it up to emotional imbalance during the early stages of a bond.

Still, he moved cautiously down the corridor. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that the door led to the dorms of bonded Sentinels and Guides. He had once looked over a layout of the Tower and quickly memorized it. Thoughts of escape aside, there had still been someone who had unlocked the door. A forgetful staffer? It was obviously someone exiting the Guide area, as the door was swung outwards. Usually if a door didn’t shut an alarm would go off though. Someone had disabled it.

Stiles had barely took a step out of the doorway when he felt a rough hand clasp over his mouth, the scent of chloroform clouding his senses. Not even one step out of the Guide section of the Tower, not even out of the Tower _itself_ , and already he was screwed over. Just great. This was his life. As his vision began to blur he saw the misty form of Matt in front of him, giving him a toothy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, excited to hear you guys on this one. I wonder if anyone saw that coming?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stiles woke up with a grogginess that put to shame any school day morning. His head felt wrapped in cotton, yet for all of that it was pounding, a steady beat of pain as his headache grew. He blinked blurry eyes into a dark space, and at first could only make out shadowy outlines of figures. For the first few minutes the speech around him was garbled, as if he was floating in water. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate._

“For christ’s sakes, can someone get these doors open?” shouted Finstock, his whistle swaying against his flannel pajamas as he rushed to the computer consoles. “What in god’s name are you all doing here?”

The night guard glared up at him. “Well, _sir_ , if I was a computer technician, I would be more than happy to open the Tower up. As it is, I’m doing the best I can.”

The Tower had a lockdown mode that would make most state prisons look damn near cozy. Metal bars were bolted against every window, and the doors were so heavily reinforced that it would take a tank to break through them. The lockdown was supposed to be an extreme measure, deployed only when the Tower was under attack. It was suppose to keep the Sentinels and Guides inside safe.

But now their own protective measures were being used against them.

Deaton arrived in a burgundy robe, a drop of calm in a sea of chaos around him as people ran about. He walked immediately to the night guard. “How many Guides are missing?”

The woman gave him a salute. “Sir, we reported sixteen missing, sir.”

“And are they all bonded?”

She hesitated, glancing down to the hand written sheet. All of the computers were unresponsive. “I believe all but one, sir. A Guide by the name of Stilinski.” She handed him the sheet.

“Hmm. I don’t believe he was in the original plan then.” Deaton scanned the list of names, tapping a finger on the desk. “How is containment of the bonded Sentinels going?”

The night guard winced. “Not well, sir. When the sedative the kidnappers gave them wore off, and they became aware of the danger their Guides were in, some began to degrade into berserking. It appears that the Guides must still be heavily sedated as well, because those still in control reported not being able to feel their Guide’s presence through their bond. We believe this has led to the psychological state of those who have begun to berserk. We tried to calm them down with Tower Guides, but there is only so much they can do.”

“Lockdown rooms?”

“Unresponsive. It seems whatever is keeping us from opening the Tower up is keeping every other system shut down too. We don’t have the controls to secure the rooms. And I think we both know how much deadbolts can do against a Sentinel enraged...”

As if on cue came the crash of a horrible roar, sounding almost too animal to come from a human throat. Deaton took off running towards the source, rushing down the hall to the grand entrance of the Tower. Scott, shirtless and in pajama pants, was ramming himself against the steel plated doors, trying to force them open through sheer force of will. The staff around him fluttered around useless, calling for the guards to bring tranquilizers.

Deaton marched straight up to him, allowing his powers to sweep forward, enveloping Scott in a blanket of calm. Still Scott crashed into the door, a wave of muscle and flesh that would only bruise against the steel, if not break a bone in the process. Deaton knew that if he allowed this to continue Scott would beat himself bloody, trying to force his way to his bonded until he collapsed from exhaustion. No reasoning would stop him, and even Deaton’s best efforts of calming was no match against the Sentinel’s rage.

He rushed forward, grabbing Scott’s arm to force contact, allowing the teenager to pause just long enough for a guard to get a clean shot with a tranquilizer gun. Deaton caught Scott in his arms as he crumpled to the ground, the young man muttering, “Allison.”

“I know,” Deaton soothed, motioning for others to come forward. “We’re going to get her back.”

+++

It was almost surprising how little moving entailed for Derek. The new apartment was lightly furnished, which was a big reason why he had chosen it. It was, perhaps, a bit too ‘modern’ for his taste, but that was fine. There was a bed in the loft, there was a desk for his papers. Hell, there was even a couch. He wasn’t so sure if a television would be worth it.

Beacon Hills was only a town, but far enough away from any big cities that there was a large urban section. Some might say the area Derek had chosen wasn’t the most respectable, or aesthetically pleasing, but the man was out of a job. Sure, he had insurance money, but that should be set aside for future endeavors. No need to splurge with no source of immediate income.

The teaching job would come only if he bonded with Stiles, and admittedly so would free room and board within the Tower. But he wasn’t so sure that bonding was going to happen anytime soon, if at all. It was only the knowledge of being shackled to a desk job that kept Derek from driving out of town immediately, and he once again argued with himself why, out of all the Guides to choose from, he still courted Stiles. Siles, who made him so angry, Stiles, who wanted to fix what should stay broken.

Stiles, who was so in the forefront of Derek’s mind that he saw the ghostly image of the Guide’s squirrel in his dreams, looking so frightened that it startled him awake.

He got up out of bed, covered in a sheen of sweat, and went to the kitchen to get some water, rubbing his haggard face. It was difficult to get sleep lately. It seemed he couldn't’ shut his eyes without the images of flames sprang before his mind, the sound of gunfire ringing in his ears. The smell of a mature woman’s perfume wafting into his nose, the scent as disgusting as rotting flesh to him. And, sometimes, the feel of long fingers around his wrists, a shadow of a memory. And for some reason that was the most haunting of them all.

He stared into the fridge, wondering if he should take out the leftover pizza. He was too anxious to eat though. There was a guilt pulling at his gut, as if he had forgotten some major assignment that he had yet to start yet knew he had to do. Energy buzzed along his fingertips. He felt nervous, yet had no reason to be. Alert, though there was no danger. His dark apartment didn’t appear to him hostile, yet his adrenaline rushed as if he was in the heat of battle.

And that was when he noticed that Stiles’ squirrel was perched on top of his countertop, staring at him with solemn, black eyes. Derek looked around, as if expecting Stiles to appear out of the shadows. Animals were often not far from their Guides, but that couldn’t be right. He wasn’t nearly close enough to the Tower. And for the squirrel to go any great distance, well, that would take serious emotional distress. Life threatening distress.

And that was when Derek knew why he had woken up. His Guide was in danger. _His_ Guide was in danger, and suddenly Derek could see through the darkness with such clarity that it might as well be high noon.

+++

Stiles woke up with a grogginess that put to shame any school day morning. His head felt wrapped in cotton, yet for all of that it was pounding, a steady beat of pain as his headache grew. He blinked blurry eyes into a dark space, and at first could only make out shadowy outlines of figures. For the first few minutes the speech around him was garbled, as if he was floating in water. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate.

“One could argue that he wasn’t part of the original plan, Matthew,” came a cultured voice to Stiles’ left.

“Yeah, and one could argue that I don’t give a fuck,” came Matt’s voice, all pretense of friendliness broken. “You asked for Guides and I got you a bonus gift. To be honest, I’m not seeing how this shouldn’t be cause for celebration. The more Guides the more money, right?”

Not that Stiles really had other theories, but Matt’s speech simply confirmed his suspicions. These were Guide sellers, criminals who kidnapped and sold Guides on the black market, usually to more underdeveloped countries that were in dire need of them. Fuck.

“The more risk, the more transport space, the more supplies needed,” came a female voice this time, her upbeat tone edged in violence. “Don’t get uppity with me, Guide, if we wanted to raid the unbonded we would have. You’re lucky we were able to get you out.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Sorry,” answered Matt, not sounding very sincere at all. “Look, I just want my money, the girl, and safe transport out of the States, okay? That’s the deal.”

“About that...” came the cultured voice, and Stiles suppressed a shiver at the tone. “Well, let’s just say plans have changed, Matthew.”

“What? No, let go of me! We had a deal, Deucalion! You needed me! You’d have never have gotten in the tower if it wasn’t for me and my record-”

“ _Needed_ being the operative word there.” The sound of something tapping against a hard surface, perhaps concrete. “I’m so sorry, but did you think I’d give you prime stock? Female Guides go for twice the price, you know that. And don’t,” the man continued, his voice slipping lower, harsher, “think that you’re going to be exempt from that.”

“You can’t do this!” The sound of duct tape unrolling. “Stop-” Matt’s cries were suddenly muffled.

“Aiden, hold him while Ethan ties him down,” said Deucalion. “And Kali, go check on our uninvited guest. From the sounds of his breathing patterns it appears he is awake.”

+++

Deaton personally oversaw Scott’s transfer into lockdown. As the man rushed back to the security station he was met with yet another Sentinel, though this one appeared to be more composure than Scott, if not an even brighter fury burning behind her eyes. She was currently in silky pajamas and a tousled robe, and two guards were at her sides, eyeing her warily. 

“Guide Deaton, I presume,” said the red head, her arms crossed and her toe tapping, the effect somewhat lost with her kitty slippers. “Sentinel Martin, junior, and currently the only one you can even begin to trust with getting us out of this Tower. Now would you please tell your guards to stop following me?”

“Sentinel Martin, I was led to believe your Guide had been captured as well.” Deaton had scanned the list of Guides taken and their Bonded, but given that Lydia was one of two females on the list, the second being Erica Reyes who was currently heavily sedated, her name had popped out at him.

“Jackson was,” Lydia explained, nary a tick or flinch at the mention of it. The woman seemed in better control of herself than most Sentinels her age on a good day. “And that’s why I’m trying to get him back. If your various staff members can’t see how controlled I am, perhaps you would care to enlighten them?” She held out her arm.

Deaton hesitated before touching her wrist briefly. There were flashes of irritation and frustration. A primal anger ran underneath, like a caged animal prowling behind its bars, fighting to get out, needing to berserk. But fitted heavily over all of it was a sense of focus, a calculating calm that was, for lack of a better term, plotting. Lydia Martin did, indeed, have no trouble controlling her emotions, as long as she had a drive and direction to move towards.

“Do you believe you can continue to control yourself?” asked Deaton, letting go of her wrist.

She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m top of my class, both in academics and control. I think I can handle myself.” She moved quickly then, breaking through the guards in order to enter behind the desk, immediately opening drawers.

“And what exactly is your master plan, Sentinel Martin?” Deaton asked with a raised brow. He certainly wasn’t one to stop those who planned to help, even if it be an extremely bright student. He couldn’t think of anything worse than losing sixteen Guides, and more than that sixteen teenagers, to parts unknown.

“A manual of course,” Lydia answered as she searched, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All the technicians are gone, and I doubt we’ve sent out a distress signal. Our location is fairly secluded, so we can’t expect any outside help until the morning shift, which is still four hours away. So what we need is- aha!” She pulled out a pornographic magazine and threw it on the floor, followed quickly by a large text. “The phone manual.”

“Isn’t getting the computers online our top priority?” asked a guard, obviously confused by Lydia’s flourish.

She glared. “That would require someone who knew something about computers, which I suggest you start polling students and staff on that right now. Obviously whatever is blocking our cell phones is out of our hands, since we don’t even know what device is being used, but landlines are a different story.” She opened the book up the page of contents and quickly scanned. “I’m guessing they cut those off manually. All we need is schematics of the system, and then to locate all the areas damage could be caused inside a building.”

Deaton gave the young woman a soft smile. “Well, Miss Martin, this may not be the time to say it, but you’re going to be one hell of a Sentinel.”

Lydia returned the smile with a raised brow. “No need to say it. I already am.”

+++

Stiles squinted open his eyes. The lighting wasn’t too bright, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t out of it. His nights of insomnia and recent drugging had not done much for his cognitive abilities, and he felt as if his skin was made of lead, his limbs heavy in their constraints. His hands were tied in front of him at the wrists, and his waist was tied to the chair beneath him, his ankles to its legs. There was simply no wriggling his way out of this one.

So Stiles started doing what he did best. Talk. “Can’t a Guide get a little sleep around here?”

It turned out Deucalion was seated a few feet away and to his left. The man was older, probably in his late thirties, with large black sunglasses and a cane that spoke of blindness. “So sorry to interrupt, Guide Stilinski.” He smiled politely, but it came out unsettling. “Would you like us to help you go back to sleep?”

The others smiles said that it definitely wasn’t lullabies they had in mind.

“Nah, I’m good. Was just thinking to myself that, hey, sleeping away your morning- or middle of the night, whenever it is- is just unhealthy for a growing man, you know?” Talk Stiles, talk. Keep them distracted. Get information. Think of a plan. Fuck, if only his head would stop hurting. “I’m supposing you’re here to sell me and my schoolmates?”

“Smart. Perhaps you’ll fetch a decent price after all. Personally, I don’t like stealing a Sheriff’s brat, but in my line of work I come across many children of law enforcement. Guide Argent, I believe, has a mother who’s head of the Los Angeles police department.” He shrugged, his hands draped over the head of his cane. “A risk, perhaps, but the price a woman Guide will fetch me? Well worth it.”

Allison, fuck. Scott was probably full on berserking right now. Hopefully they tranqed first and asked questions later. Stiles scanned the room and found her tied up and on the floor, leaning against the wall, just one of a long line of unconscious students. He assessed her for injury, which he couldn’t find, while asking, “I don’t get it, though. You said they were all bonded, right? Besides me? You can’t bond with someone else, even if forced.” It was one of the basics of bonding, especially sexual. Which, given the Tower’s matchmaking policies, was guaranteed to be all students.

“Ah, smart, isn’t he?” Kali asked, tilting her head like a snake eyeing its prey. “Inquisitive, too.”

Deucalion chuckled. “Kali, my dear, the boy is simply curious. Might as well give him something to keep his mind off things, hmm? Unless you’d rather we drag his unconscious body into the truck. And speaking of our mode of transportation, where is Ennis?”

“Still dealing with border patrol,” said another man, younger though, maybe even Stiles’ age. He was obviously a twin, and by Deucalion’s conversation with Matt, either Ethan or Aiden.

“Ah. Well, I suppose there is only so much our boy wonder can do before physical requirements must be made for our safe departure.” He turned to the direction to the only other conscious person in the room, the seething and struggling Matt notwithstanding. “How is our fine Beacon Hills Tower holding out, Danny?”

Another boy Stiles’ age gave a dimpled smile, quirked to the side. He had a laptop seated on his thighs, and was steadily clicking away at it, never taking his eyes off the screen. “Still locked down. The staff are currently all running around like chickens with their heads cut off.” His eyes crinkled. “All bonded Sentinels are currently in lock down and heavily sedated. Would you like to hear the footage, Duke?”

“No, I find your description apt enough,” decided Deucalion. “But perhaps starting the divorces before Ennis arrives would be pertinent to our plans?”

Stiles eyes widened. No. No way they were going to do that. It was impossible... wasn’t it?

One of the twins frowned at that. “I thought we were going to wait to get back to headquarters to start that process.”

Danny stood up, placing his computer on the seat of his chair. “Ethan, I’m fine. The sooner we start the divorces, the less work I have to do later.”

“And the less sedative we have to dish out,” added Aiden, shoving his brothers arm. “Come on, you know as soon as these Guides wake up they’ll be a beacon signal to their Sentinels. And we can’t exactly afford to ruin the merchandise by drugging them constantly. We went through this, remember?”

Ethan nodded but his jaw was still clenched, only visibly relaxing when Danny touched his arm with light affection. It was obvious they had a bond, Danny most likely being the Guide of the two if he was going to start performing divorces. The man walked up to a Guide, squatted down, and was that Jackson?

“You can’t!” yelled out Stiles on impulse, biting back his words when every eye was suddenly focused on him. “I mean, you can’t, literally. Divorces have to have both parties, they have to be consenting, they have to _want_ it.” And usually it was done with a trained professional, not a Guide barely into his powers.

Kali shook a very sharp fingernail. “Uh uh uh, little Guide. Question time is over now. You can just watch and see how much Danny can’t do what he’s about to.”

That was when Jackson started screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try, try, try to at least get to a nice settling point before Otakon, since that's going to take up a lot of time. But we'll see if that happens >x


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles had never felt pity for Jackson before, but now he was overwhelmed by it. And Sentinels always took divorces harder, everyone knew that. Oh god, what was this doing to Lydia? Perfectly coiffed, always in control Lydia, whose anchor and soulmate was being ripped from her. How had the articles described it? 
> 
> Like tearing off a limb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my ever lovely beta for keeping me in check, I don't know how I would survive without her (answer: with very poor grammar and some real lack of practical thinking). Hope you guys enjoy, and sorry for the unexpected hiatus! Otakon prep, Otakon itself, and then hanging with people afterwards really took time out of writing, well, anything. Now that school is starting next Monday I might actually have more time to write, but we'll see how the semester goes <3

The vastness of the dark would be overwhelming to a norm, but for Derek it was a simple minute to adjust to his surroundings. It wasn’t that Sentinels had night vision, per say. True, enhanced vision did help in the dark, but it was his other senses that allowed him to traverse the more abandoned parts of Beacon Hills; where the streetlights were sporadic and warehouses littered the roads like abandoned toys, boarded up and covered with graffiti. It was the part of town that was so dead that not even the police made rounds, too vast and empty to really be controlled.

The deeper into the alleyways Derek got, the more he felt his adrenaline rise. No good reasoning could answer why Stiles would be in this area of his own free will. The unlikelihood of escaping the Tower was alone enough to make Derek panic, just enough to set his nerves on edge. But that was good, he could use it. Had used it since the beginning of his police career. The fear of death would only make him stronger. And the fear of Stiles’ dying? He felt damn near invincible.

Stiles’ squirrel was scuttling along the alleyway, a flash of silver in a sea of black and gray, a will-o’-the-wisp leading Derek to danger. But the Sentinel knew how to handle himself, knew how to walk silently but quickly, his grip digging into his pistol. Completely legal, he had a permit. And even though he felt the rising urge to rip the bloody throat of whoever had taken his Guide, he knew a few well aimed bullets would do the job far more cleanly, however less gratifying.

He stopped as soon as he heard voices, knowing that even the soft tread of his shoes could be picked up by a Sentinel alert. He was still too far away to make out sounds, but knew that he risked too much to go closer, the double edged sword when dealing with others of enhanced senses. He allowed his eyes to close in order to concentrate, to pick out the individual words, to find their location.

Pieces of words from unfamiliar voices. A single name, Duke, asked by a soft male voice with obvious respect. The answering voice was low but cultured, seeming to be almost bored, hard to make out. Perhaps an accent. Another voice, another young man, a bit panicked and thus a bit louder. “...wait to get back to headquarters to start that process.”

Derek’s eyes snapped open. What process? Fuck, he had lost concentration, he had to calm down. His breath was too heavy, they were going to hear him. He didn’t have but a moment to calm his breathing before he heard Stiles scream out, “You can’t!” The Guide’s voice didn’t sound like it was in pain, which was good, but it did sound panicked. And that alone was enough to get Derek moving, silent as ever, stealthy as always, but without a thought of calling for backup, his cellphone left forgotten in his pocket. His Guide was in trouble, and all Derek could think about was how to get him out of it.

It wasn’t until the screaming began that Derek broke out into a run.

+++

Lydia was in control. She was always in control, ever since that first day her Sentinel powers had awakened. Her parents had been so proud. A strong Sentinel in their family, a young woman who had an iron grip on herself. The only one who hadn’t been proud had been Lydia herself. She was intelligent, she knew how people would view her. Someone with powers so weak she could easily control them, a Sentinel more suited for the desk than the field.

So she had learned to fake it with the rest of them. She had glared at the sun with her classmates, had complained how the cafeteria food was too strong, even the blander options. But, slowly, she had allowed her true colors to come out. Had shown that she had the senses, the skill, and the control that put the rest of her class to shame. Sure, others could attribute it to bonding with Jackson, but even without his presence Lydia had always felt fine. Even with Jackson missing she reigned in her senses, used them to her advantage. She wasn’t a primitive animal to be controlled by her instinct. She was in control. She would always be in control.

Until, suddenly, she wasn’t.

It was like despair, the darkest despair, and it came crashing upon her, a snaggle toothed saw cutting her in two. Even in her greatest moments of darkness; her parents telling her to pick who to live with, her grandmother tutting how it would have been so much better if she had been a proper little Guide, everyone who ever told her she was too small and too pretty to make a proper Sentinel. It was so much worse than that, cut so much deeper. It wasn’t her pride that was hurt; it was her very soul, her very essence.

She screamed. For once it didn’t matter that people were all around her, that there were important school officials who would one day be writing recommendation letters. She simply screamed and screamed and couldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. Her soul was splitting in two, and it was all she could do to not collapse. God, she wanted it to stop.

Deaton was grabbing her arms, trying to calm her down, but it was as if his sedative calmness was simply sucked into a void.

“Jackson!” she found herself croaking, tears in the corner of her eyes. “They’re taking Jackson away from me!”

No, no, that couldn’t be true. Jackson was hers, her Guide, hers to protect. She was trying so hard to protect him, trying so hard to keep him safe. She would escape the Tower, would run to him, would fight off anyone who tried to take him from her. But they were taking him, were ripping their connection apart. How could she find him now? How could she sense where he was, feel his heartbeat, know he was safe?

She was vaguely aware that others were staring at her, sedatives to the ready. She jerked Deaton’s hold away and tossed her hair over her shoulder, wiping the corner of her eyes. She didn’t need the connection to be in control. She was strong. She may have screamed, but sweetheart, that was a battle cry. She wasn’t going to lose control, not now. Not when it mattered the most.

“Let’s get to those phone lines,” she told them, her eyes hard. And the first person to mention berserking could be the first in line to feel just how much muscle she had in her small frame.

+++

Jackson continued to scream, and Stiles simply stared in horror. He had always thought that in a situation like this he would shout, but in reality he was pathetically numb. Not even the cheesy movie lines came to him now. _Don’t hurt him, stop it, don’t you see he’s screaming?_ The lines flashed through his mind but refused to take voice. All he could think of was how easily that could have been him. How easily it was for someone to rip a half of your soul away. How painful it must be for Jackson.

Stiles had never felt pity for Jackson before, but now he was overwhelmed by it. And Sentinels always took divorces harder, everyone knew that. Oh god, what was this doing to Lydia? Perfectly coiffed, always in control Lydia, whose anchor and soulmate was being ripped from her. How had the articles described it? 

Like tearing off a limb.

The moment Jackson lost consciousness every Sentinel in the room looked towards the same direction, a partially boarded window that reached to the floor, the glass nearly completely broken.

“Duke, tell me we have guns,” hissed Aiden, his hands beginning to fist.

“You know that we couldn’t get them past the border,” answered Kali, her teeth grinding.

“Then I suppose I have no reason to be hiding, do I?” came a calm voice as Derek stepped through the broken window and into view, his gun pointed forward but his eyes locking onto Stiles, a silvery wolf curled around his legs, teeth bared. His Sentinel had come.

“I want everyone’s arms up, now!” shouted Derek, his gaze steel as he swept his pistol around. “Step away from the Guides and back up against the wall!”

Before anyone had a chance to respond, a moment to move, Deucalion took his walking stick in hand and ripped off the top of it, revealing a small blade. He threw it before Derek had time to react, stabbing deep into the Sentinel’s chest with a sickening thud. Derek staggered back in shock before dropping his gun, his legs giving out from under him, forcing him onto his knees.

Deucalion smirked and turned back towards Stiles, his voice seeming almost bored as he asked, “Kali, if you would be so kind as to retrieve the firearms from our-” His head whipped back to Derek. “Damn it, get him! He’s calling the police!”

But it was already too late. Even Stiles could hear the distant voice of, “911, what is your emergency?” emanating from Derek’s pocket, the Sentinel’s shaking hand stuffed into it.

“It’s too late!” shouted Kali. “Let’s just load the Guides in the car and get out of here.” She picked up her phone, the silvery form of a tiger flashing at her heels before dissolving once more. “I’m calling Enniss, if he hasn’t secured a road by now I’ll murder him.”

“And that’s not our only problem,” said Danny gravely as he picked up his laptop. “The Tower has reconnected the phone lines, and already outside connections are deactivating the lockdown protocol. I give them five minutes, tops, before Beacon Hills is swarming with angry Sentinels.”

Everyone looked to Deucalion, who puckered his lips with exasperation. “Well, there is no helping it then. How many Divorces can you perform at one time?”

“Two, three more tops,” Danny admitted shakily. “I can try for more, but I may pass out.”

“We’ll simply try for our best.” Deucalion’s calm facade was slowly chipping though, and his mouth was hard at the profit lost. Briefly a large snake circled around his shoulders before flashing out of Stiles’ vision once more. “Ethan, grab the Guide Danny just divorced, and one other Guide, a woman. Kali and Danny, same goes with you, any woman, quickly now. I’ll lead Matt out. Aiden, you take Stiles and another woman. We’ll leave the men here, they’re far less valuable. Let us just hope that Danny can handle four.”

They quickly set out to do their jobs, Jackson hauled up on Ethan’s shoulders before another woman was carried in his arms, like ragdolls draped across him. Kali and Danny selected a woman each at random. Aiden retrieved both Derek’s gun and the walking stick from the Sentinel’s unconscious body before helping Deucalion untie and then once more restrain Matt, a quick threat forcing the Guide into submission.

There were three women left, and by some miracle one was Allison. Stiles hadn’t said a word, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he tried to find a way to escape. But no plan presented itself, and his stomach fell as he watched Aiden pick up Allison before heading towards him. No, he had to do something. He couldn’t depend on Derek, not when he had no idea what was on the tip of that dagger Deucalion threw. He had to save himself and his best friend’s Guide, and he had to do it _now_.

“Don’t make me gag you,” Aiden threatened as he laid Allison down by Stiles’ feet. “There’s no way the police are here yet, so don’t make me knock you unconscious.”

Stiles was quiet as the man began to undo his bonds. It was strange; Aiden didn’t feel like a Sentinel, but not a norm either. No, despite everything, Aiden was definitely a Guide, though perhaps not the best one. Which made the desperate plan of Stiles all the more unlikely. It was not very well known, but Guides emotional manipulation did not simply work on Sentinels. Yes, while Sentinels were far more receptive of it, Guides could manipulate anyone, even each other. So as soon as Stiles’ hand was free he grasped Aiden’s exposed neck and poured every inch of himself into making the man fall asleep, right now, just fall _asleep_.

Aiden didn’t even have the chance to say another word before his eyes drooped and he quickly did just that.

“Aiden!” shouted Ethan, moving forward towards his brother, an unconscious Guide still in his arms.

Deucalion stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Shut up, you fool, I can already hear sirens. We’re leaving, _now_.”

“But Aiden-”

“Is a worthless Guide who is no use to me now. Leave now or stay with your brother, the choice is yours.”

And Stiles, though his vision swam and his ears rang, still saw as Ethan glared, placed down the Guide in his arms, and hefted Jackson off his shoulders before running towards Aiden. Danny didn’t hesitate to put down the Guide he was carrying and follow after his Sentinel.

Deucalion’s lip curled his distaste. “Kali, put down that woman and grab the boy. We’re leaving to meet Enniss, _now_.”

+++

“No, we haven’t been able to locate them yet Deaton.” The Sheriff rubbed his eyes wearily. “I’ve got cops all over the town, scouring every back road and exit point. They didn’t walk through the woods with two kids in tow, and even if they did we would sniff them out.”

“I’m afraid we may have to look for the federal authorities to retrieve those lost guides. Though from what Stiles has told you, Matt may not want to be found.” Deaton sounded calm as always, even the in wake of what could ruin his career. The Sheriff had to be impressed.

“Any idea why they took bonded Guides? Seems a bit backwards, if you ask me.”

“Our bonded Guides have far less security in their living quarters, enabling the kidnappers easier access. We depend on their Sentinels to protect them, but from what we gather they somehow were able to access the ventilation shafts and released some sort of gas to render the students unconscious. All helped by Matt from within the Tower, of course.”

The Sheriff gave a whistle. “Guide dealers are becoming even more skilled, I suppose. I’m just glad we were able to rescue as many as we were.”

“Yes, and no small part due to your son. Now, do I have your consent to oversee the Guides at the Tower? We have medical equipment ready for whatever treatment they may need, and I believe it would be best for both Guide and Sentinel’s emotional health if they were to be treated together.”

“Hell, you would know better than I about that kind of stuff. We’ll send the ambulances to the Tower, just be ready to receive them.”

“Thank you for the cooperation Sheriff Stilinski. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to oversee the Sentinels recovery. Hopefully the news of their Guides will calm them down.” With that the Guide ended the call.

The Sheriff rubbed his head and sighed, looking over to the warehouse wall where his son was currently talking to Derek, the Sentinel’s eyes open, but still unresponsive. Stiles had allowed an EMT to check Derek’s vitals and patch the knife wound, luckily lodged into the fat of Derek’s armpit rather than a bone or artery, the blade thin but covered in a strong sedative. The man may even get away without needing stitches. But then Stiles had asked for the chance to calm Derek down, wary of him beginning to berserk with so much stress. The Sheriff had allowed his son to go with his instincts, and they were waiting for Derek to be able to move on his own before transporting both Guide and Sentinel back to the tower.

No one expected Derek to suddenly grab Stiles and rush to the broken window, jumping through it with a single leap, least of all the Sheriff. If he had, he would have never let Stiles near the man. If he had, he would have pulled the trigger of the tranquilizer gun himself. He cursed loudly and got out his phone, yelling orders for his man to chase after them as he re-dialed Deaton’s number.

“Is there another problem Sheriff Stilinski?” asked Deaton from the other end.

“You could say there is,” the Sheriff ground out, staring out into the darkened alley outside the warehouse. “Derek’s just taken my son to bond.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear what direction you guys want me to take this. I'm definitely thinking that next chapter will earn me my explicit rating, but I'd love feedback on how you guys want me to go about it ^^
> 
> Also, what perspective are you wanting to hear from next?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stiles just gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, I obviously don’t have enough juice in me to calm you down. Which begs the question, why would I really want to stop you? I mean, hey, I was all for immediate bonding just a few days ago. Not that the fact that we’re still technically in a fight is really helping- hey, the clothes stay on!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the mildly dubious consent tag. For all those who feel uncomfortable about this and would like to know more, please read the end note which will have an explanation of the event (spoilers though!). End note will also contain news!

Stiles was there and he was safe. There was no blood-scent on him, no bruise-marks on him, but there was still a sheen of nervous, fear drenched sweat, and that was not good. No, not good at all. Stiles should only smell content and happy and _not-fear-never-fear_ , because Derek was going to protect the Guide so he would never have to feel fear again.

“Oh god, is this the cuddling stage?” Stiles asked, laid down on Derek’s bed (which was good, because it made him smell like Derek), the Sentinel plastered on top of him. “This is the cuddling stage, isn’t it? You carried me to this apartment- which I can only hope is yours, by the way, really awkward if it isn’t- and proceed to start a snuggle fest with me because this is the cuddle stage, isn’t it? Or, you know, scenting or whatever.”

Derek’s only response was to rub his stubbled chin against Stiles’ neck. His Guide must smell like Derek, must show others that he was Derek’s to protect. Everyone would know this, and in knowing this would realize that to harm Stiles was to be harmed by Derek. Everyone would know that Stiles was his, and no one else would dare try to take him again, to claim him as their own.

“Okay, I’m guessing you’re not exactly in the mood for breathing exercises,” Stiles continued, his eyesight raised to the ceiling. For a while now he had a hand clutching the back of Derek’s neck, trying to calm the Sentinel with his touch.

While Derek had felt a vague sense of calmness and collectiveness, enough to stop his frenzy of bonding with the boy immediately, he had not yet shaken the need to do so soon. He licked a hot stripe across Stiles’ neck, and afterwards bit down into it slowly.

“Hey!” Stiles cried, tensing up, his fingernails digging into Derek’s skin. “No biting!”

Derek’s response was to growl softly and bite a bit harder, not enough to hurt but enough to leave a mark. He needed to mark his Guide, so that everyone knew he was Derek’s. This was, he knew, very important, and soon Stiles would want to be marked too.

Stiles just gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, I obviously don’t have enough juice in me to calm you down. Which begs the question, why would I really want to stop you? I mean, hey, I was all for immediate bonding just a few days ago. Not that the fact that we’re still technically in a fight is really helping- hey, the clothes stay on!”

Derek had just lifted Stiles shirt a bit to rub his stomach. Really, the Guide was going to have to get used to a lot more than that if they were ever going to bond properly. Still, he mulishly slid his hand from under Stiles’ shirt. His Guide would want to feel Derek’s touch soon enough.

“Okay, look, I can’t exactly magic my way into calming you down, so I’m going to try direct commands.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s chin, forcing eye contact, his eyes serious. “I’m not battlefield bonding, no way in hell. So you either talk to me or I’m calling this whole thing off, and don’t think I won’t. You’re calm enough that there’s no way you’ll do anything against my will.”

Derek, for all that he was a grown man, whined pitifully and kissed Stiles’ chin. No, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want his Guide to reject him. But words seemed unimportant now, so inconsequential when Stiles smelled so delightfully young and healthy, and their bond seemed stronger than ever. So close in Derek’s grasp. But he had to calm down, he had to think. He had to do as his Guide wished.

“What… what do you want me to say?” Derek gasped out, his hands moving to Stiles’ back; over Stiles’ shirt, his disgusting shirt, covered in the scent of others, others who wanted to take the Guide away from Derek. He loathed it like he had never loathed a piece of fabric, and felt a rising urge to tear it to shreds. But this was his Guide, and his Guide had said no, so he must wait.

Stiles opened his mouth, only to shut it again, biting his lip. He hesitated, glancing away quickly, causing Derek to lean forward and nuzzle his ear. “Stop that,” Stiles admonished, “it’s making it hard to think.”

Derek did, but not without a small kiss on the pale earlobe.

“Okay, look, do you even want to bond with me?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, right now obviously, but in the long term. Do you want to _be_ bonded with me?”

“Yes.” That over with, Derek happily returned to kissing a line down Stiles’ neck.

“No, I mean- ah, stop, can’t think- I mean, does the non-slightly-berserked you want to bond with me? Have you ever even really thought about it?”

Derek looked up incredulously. “Stiles, I’ve been courting with you for weeks. Obviously I’ve given it a thought or two.” It seemed that exasperation made talking a lot easier for Derek. 

“Wow, that sounded… almost normal. Good, that’s good. Though you’re still rubbing my back… But yeah, progress!” Stiles twirled his finger in a mock celebration.

“I’ve wanted to bond with you since I first smelled you.” Derek took the time to inhale deeply, categorizing the smell of Stiles, still indescribable, and of embarrassment, though the happy kind, like after receiving a praise. “I’ve wanted to bond with you when you first fought back. I wanted to bond with you when you didn’t take my bullshit, and refused to back down.”

“But-but right now, right now you’re just scared someone will kidnap me again.”

Derek clenched Stiles’ hips, lifting his head so they were eye to eye. “No one will ever take you from me again.”

Stiles nodded dumbly, once. “Uh… okay.”

Despite the rising anger inside him (not towards Stiles, never towards Stiles), Derek proceeded with scenting the Guide. “I need to bond with someone, and I was just too stubborn to see that putting it off will do me no good.”

“Wow, that almost sounds coherent. Almost believing here that you actually do want to bond with me. Not that, you know, I am completely against that idea. I mean, freedom at stake and all, and I barely got to even talk to my dad when he showed up, would like to do that again- I said no biting!”

Derek looked up guiltily from where he had pulled aside Stiles’ shirt to bite his shoulder. “There’s going to need to be a little biting.”

“Okay, fine, whatever. I was just going to tell you that I’m down for bonding, all right? So, you know, go ahead and- did you just rip my shirt?!”

Derek had ripped the shirt, and he wasn’t even sorry about it. The shirt obviously must be destroyed, there was no way he wanted to ever smell it again. Even the sight of it would infuriate him. “I’ll buy you a new one.” He threw the tattered remains on the floor.

Stiles retort, whatever it was, was cut short by the fact that Derek took the opportunity to capture those very pink lips. They hadn’t kissed since that first time, and Derek was hard pressed to find reasons why that was so. Stiles was obviously inexperienced, but after an initial surprised hesitation he became very enthusiastic, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders. Stiles chest had surprising muscle under all those layers, and his torso was peppered in dots and freckles, which Derek had absolutely no choice but to find and kiss.

In the textbook sense, scenting was a primitive urge for a Sentinel to integrate their scent onto their Guide to show other parties of their bond. This bonding ritual tended to last several hours or even days in comfortable settings, to mere seconds in more stressful scenarios, known as battlefield bonding. The process of scenting was also a chance for both parties to release pheromones, enticing and exciting each other in equal measure before sexual intercourse, as well as strengthening their mental and emotional connection before cementing it.

Derek had read this like any other schooled Sentinel, had filled in the blank when it came up on tests. But knowing what was to happen was far different than experiencing it. Not all the words in the English language could describe how delicious Stiles smelled right now. Moans and cries could but say what Stiles was doing, but not how sweetly they filled Derek’s ears. Pheromones, connections, integration- all clinical terms, far too clinical for such an intimate moment between the two men. It was a ritual, seeped deep into both their DNAs, the ever present need to find a partner- a mate, a soulmate, a love- finally being met.

Their clothes were slowly shed, one by one, and Derek marveled at each inch of skin offered to him. Oh, but his Guide was beautiful, truly beautiful. Healthy and whole and all his. 

+++

Stiles had never felt his neck tingle before, but he had read about it. A reaction to the pheromones Derek was giving off, and to their ever strengthening psychic connection. Soon a gland would swell in Stiles’ neck, and then Derek would bite it, and then- what was it called again? _Ritus morsus_ , the bite that would put them both in heat. But right now was not that time, right now was _ritus fragrans_ , the scenting. And then, after the bite and what was said to be a truly astounding round of sex, would come the final cementing of their bond, _caerimonia compago_.

Stiles listed off the latin surnames in his head as his mind began to buzz pleasantly. It was like waking up after a good night’s rest mixed with the glow of horniness when watching your favorite porn video. He knew his gland would swell, and to be honest it had sound kind of gross when he had been taught that. But in reality it was a warm tingle on the side of his throat, and, through instinct rather than lesson plan, he presented his neck to Derek.

The stretch of skin was like a holy relic to the Sentinel, but he hesitated and said, “Not yet. First I have to prepare you. I’ve never- I’ve never done this with a man, so I’m not sure how in control i’ll be.”

Stiles squirmed at that. He didn’t like remembering that Derek had belonged to others, that this wasn’t his first bond, when to Stiles it was his first almost-everything. He felt inexperienced and immature at the mention, and so he only nodded. He had fingered himself before (most Guides had, at least to try it out), and while he had never really felt the experience to be particularly pleasurable, it hadn’t been unpleasant.

But when Derek’s fingers, coated in the lube neatly stored in his bedside dresser, slid inside him? It was completely different. Just like when Derek rubbed his nipples, a body region that he had thought unresponsive until feeling the touch of callous fingertips. Or his neck, because really, who knew he had a thing for necking? Which was a good thing because Derek’s mouth seemed to have no better preference but to lick and bite and kiss it. And so it turned out that many things Stiles had never thought he would enjoy turned out to be quite the freaking experience when Derek was the one doing them.

His body undulated under the Sentinel as he tried to quiet his own moans. Derek kept rubbing against somewhere inside him that made him itch for more. The warm tingling in his neck became a heated throb, and Derek tongued the growing lump gently, seeming to savor it like it was his favorite treat. Soon Stiles could do nothing but moan Derek’s name, softly begging for the bite that he knew would end such tempting torture. And Derek, the good Sentinel he was, slicked himself up and entered his Guide slowly, their hands intertwining, Stiles’ teeth gritted, Derek’s eyes closed in ecstasy.

It wasn’t until Derek was fully sheathed within his lover that he gave into his urges, biting down at the pale neck offered; slowly, savoring each second his teeth pressed downwards.

If Stiles had thought he was horny before, well, that was nothing to the flood of lust that was filling him now. It was like liquid honey, warm and thick. It flooded his veins, and his hips bucked forward of their own accord. He grasped Derek’s shoulders like a lifeline, like the man was a salvation, and his eyes closed with the sensations flooding him. Some far off part of him knew that he was releasing an irresistible scent now, and that Derek’s low growl and digging fingers were a bid to keep control.

The man’s hips were sharp as he thrusted into Stiles, knocking him back into the mattress. But Stiles’ pain receptors were nowhere to be found, and he could only find the pleasure as Derek began to rock back and forth. Oh, the sweet perks to being a Guide. The stimulation was near suffocating, each place touched lighting up his skin with sparks, his erection rubbing between their stomachs.

When Derek once more found that sweet slide against Stiles’ inside, the Guide let out a moan that was more of a scream. Oh god, at this rate he was going to lose his voice altogether. For once in his life Derek was vocal too, though not so much with words as with low groans. Each thrust was life affirming, each breath too much as Stiles’ lungs constricted with his pants. The friction again his cock felt too good for him to last for long, and soon he felt himself folding inwards as he spent himself harshly, almost achingly, violently, spilling across their stomachs, Derek’s orgasm only moments behind.

+++

Stiles was happy and sated, pink skin and a gentle smile, lying by Derek’s side; the most beautiful thing that the man had ever seen. Stiles’ scent, his sweat, his very self, all was absorbed, every tick of his calming heartbeat. The Sentinel within Derek was nothing but pleased at his Guide’s contentment, preening in delight with every post-coital moan that fell from such sweet, pink lips. 

Stiles, his head currently resting on Derek’s chest, looked to the side, his heavy lidded eyes widening with shock. “Oh!”

Derek looked too, and found his wolf curled up on the floor, Stiles’ squirrel tucked within its center.

“Oh!” Stiles said once more. “It’s a she! I was wondering what she was.”

Derek scrunched up his brow. “They have a gender?”

“Of course they do. I’ve known my squirrel was a he since he showed up- what, you didn’t know?”

Derek shrugged. “Never really gave it much thought. Can’t see it much. Or, well, can’t see _her_ much, I guess.” It seemed rude not to call her by her proper gender. He wondered if Stiles’ newfound knowledge had to do with their bond.

Their bond. It was growing even now. Soon every emotion would be known to each other with but a concentration of will. Derek would always be able to sense where Stiles was, and no matter the distance they would never truly be apart. It was like Derek had been only half a person, and now he was a whole again. It was a fulfilling state of being, but Derek was quick to remember that it was not the first time he had felt this way. And with their newfound connection had to be full disclosure. Anything less was unacceptable for two people now intertwined.

“I have to tell you something,” Derek began, voice low.

“Hmm?” Stiles looked up, his lazy smile turning to a frown. “Wow, I can actually _feel_ how serious you’re getting right now.” He propped his head up, laying his chin on his knuckles. “What’s wrong?”

Derek rubbed the back of Stiles’ head, more to calm himself than the Guide. “I know you knew I was bonded before, but I need you to know what happened.” He had wanted to tell- well, that was a lie. He would have rather told Stiles his past before bonding, but the truth was he never wanted to tell anyone about it, ever. He wanted to bury it so deep within himself that not even he could remember those sad events. But he had to be honest. Stiles deserved no less.

Stiles bit his lip before admitting, “I wanted to wait for you to tell me. So I didn’t look anything up.”

Derek leaned forward to kiss Stiles’ brow. “Thank you for that.”

A small smile flickered on the Guide’s face, before his serious look returned, his attention completely focused on Derek.

“My first bonding was with a girl named Paige,” Derek began, looking away. It was easier to say that way. “She was my age and could play the cello, and had snark that could rival even yours.” Perhaps Derek had a type. “I think she hated me at first, but for some reason she kept letting me court her. And then, before I turned 16, I was allowed to bond with her. So I did.

“Like most Guides, the first thing she wanted was to go outside the Tower. My dad drove us to the movies, and we watched something she had been wanting to see.” He gave a shallow smirk at the memory. “I even joked that she only bonded with me to see it, which of course got me slapped. Afterwards we were going to have dinner with my family, and I was allowed to spend the weekend home with her. Next weekend we were going to drive up to see her family…”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand gently, sensing his anxiety. Derek briefly looked to him, giving a smile that didn’t really reach his eyes, took a breath, looked away again, and continued.

“It was late at night, because we had to go after school. We were walking to get some ice cream. I went to go buy us some while she crossed the street to go to use a cafe’s bathroom. The line was pretty long, so I hadn’t even gotten to order before I heard the car brakes, and… And Paige was between a telephone pole and a van by the time I turned around.”

It was almost worse than when he had told this all to Kate, because he could feel how genuine the wave of pity Stiles had for him was. He had thought that Kate had blocked it, had wanted to preserve his dignity, but he had quickly found out that she just didn’t have anything good in her to have pity over anothers suffering. But it still didn’t stop him from feeling embarrassed over it, like he was trying to gain sympathy points from his sob story. He wasn’t. He hated telling people that his first Guide died within a week of bonding. He hated it.

“I won’t go into the rest of the details,” Derek decided. How he had held her bloody body, cradled her to him, feeling every ounce of hurt she had as she fought to stay alive. “The driver had been drunk.” How she begged Derek to just end it, to just end her pain, and he had cried, couldn’t even find the words to tell her he didn’t know how. “He got put away for manslaughter.” How he had only realized later that she was telling him to kill her, how he should have, because every second had been agony. “She died of blood loss before the ambulance even came.” And he had felt the moment that she slipped away from him, tearing a piece of himself with her, a chunk of his soul.

Derek said this all clinically, unattached. He couldn’t afford to get upset now. He was only halfway done.

“I’m sure you’ve read statistics on Sentinels who have their Guide’s die. The younger the age, the more likely they’ll become suicidal.” The truth was all he remembered was feeling numb, already halfway dead inside. They had taken him out of school. Laura said he was unresponsive to anything, to his friends, his family, his hobbies. Just a shell of a person. “The Tower decided not to give me that chance. They set me up with an older Guide, someone in her 20s who had had experience with bonding, but whose Sentinel had died. I’m pretty sure Kate killed him.”

Stiles inhaled sharply.

Kate. Kate, with her beautiful charm and her throaty laugh. She had been perfect. All the tenderness of a mother, all the passion of a lover. She had cradled Derek’s head in her arms and simply let him cry. Had blanketed the loss with an addictive calm, always touching him, always keeping his feelings in check. He hadn’t hesitated to accept their bonding. It was the only option for him. He was lost, incomplete, empty inside. He needed Kate to fill him up.

“My family was very accepting of her, even though she was older. They knew how important it was for me to have someone, after Paige… And for all their kindness, for all that they welcomed her like she was their fucking own, she burned down my house and ran.” He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm. “I learned that they found her body a few months ago, some far off country. I don’t know if Guide traders got her, or if she ran there to make a new life, but she’s dead now. And you know what? I didn’t even feel a goddamn thing.”

Stiles was a conflict of emotions right now. Sad, angry, confused, guilty. Derek wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was pretty sure that Stiles didn’t know what to make of it either.

“I never wanted to tell anyone all of that,” Derek confessed, still not looking Stiles in the eye. “I have a pretty fucked up view of bonding now. Even though my parents were bonded, and my co-workers, and even Laura before she died. And Laura, well, she was never a Guide but she was the closest thing I had to keeping me from losing myself. And after she died all I had to go on for was my job, was making sure the shit that happened to me didn’t happen to other people. And then they forced me to bond to let me keep it… Ironic, isn’t it?”

Derek felt hot tears splash his chest, and turned, amazed to see Stiles crying. He gingerly swept a thumb across the boy’s wet cheek.

“It sucks.” Stiles sniffed. “I mean, yeah, your whole story sucks, but it sucks even more cause I know just how much it sucks for you. And here I am, trying to get you to fucking bond without even knowing me! I’m surprised you don’t just hate all Guides now-”

“I could never hate you,” Derek interrupted. “And it wasn’t Paige’s fault that her death affected me like it did.” The loss, the pain, the guilt for being the one who took her out of the Tower, took her to her death. “I don’t know if I can ever really get past all of it, but I don’t think… I don’t think I’m helping anyone by letting it drag me down.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, I don’t know… I don’t know what I can do to help you though. I keep trying to think of a way, but…”

Derek put his hand on Stiles’ lower back, and held the Guide’s hand with the other, his eyes somber. “Stay. That’s all you have to do. Stay with me.”

Stiles nodded. “Of course. I’ll always be here. You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know?”

Derek smiled. God, he hoped so.

+++

“Yeah Dad, it was completely consensual bonding. We even talked beforehand and everything.” Stiles kicked his feet idly as he sat on the edge of the bed, Derek’s cell phone pressed against his ear. Derek was taking the opportunity to sit behind him and place soft kisses on his shoulders.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I believe that,” the Sheriff decided, his authority figure voice in full swing.

“Well, according to some biblical texts hell _does_ run cold in certain locations-”

“Stiles, you know what I mean! I saw him grab you and run, so if this is just post-bonding talk that has you so defensive on me not hauling him down the station right now, so help me God-”

“Dad, relax, relax,” Stiles cautioned, “remember your blood pressure.”

“I don’t give a damn about my blood pressure, I give a damn about my son!”

Stiles wiped a hand down his face. “Look, we were courting beforehand. You knew that. And you also knew that I wanted to get out of the Tower eventually, right?” Stiles smiled slowly as a thought came to him. “Besides, how long did you court Mom before you two bonded?”

Derek chuckled between kisses. The man obviously knew genius when he heard it.

Radio silence for quite a few moments, before the Sheriff coldly responded, “Don’t you dare bring me and your mother into this conversation.”

“What did you say again? When you know you know, right? That you just _sensed_ that Mom was the one.”

“Stiles, that’s a completely different situation-”

“That, if it had been up to you two, you guys would have bonded that first week? That first meeting, actually, wasn’t that what you guys said?”

“Okay, fine!” Stiles could just imagine the Sheriff throwing up a hand in surrender. “I won’t imprison my new son-in-law. But I expect you two at dinner tomorrow, capice?”

“Well, tomorrow is… Well, I’d have to check with my secretary…” Stiles turned to Derek with a questioning brow, only to have the man shake his head. “Looks like that’s going to be a no. I’m pretty much booked for the next couple of days. But I’ll see if I can pencil you in for Thursday?”

The exasperated sigh on the other end was all Stiles had to hear to know when his father was admitting defeat. “Don’t you dare think you’re not catching up with your schoolwork the moment you get back to the Tower, honeymoon phase or no. And tell Derek welcome to the family, but if he messes with you I’ll kick his ass.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Derek muttered under his breath.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that,” the Sheriff growled. “You’re not the only Sentinel here, son.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at Derek’s scandalized expression. They were going to make one hell of a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek is slightly berserk and begins scenting (nuzzling, kissing, etc) Stiles without full consent. Stiles realizes the situation and is calm at all times, taking command before anything more happens. A conversation happens, and full consent (though still influenced by the situation and hormones of course) occurs before they become intimate. I hope that clears that up for you!
> 
> NEWS: Only the epilogue left to go guys! And it'll be short! But as you see I made this into a SERIES (!!!), which means I am planning on a sequel. However I have like 0 ideas for it right now, and I've decided to wait until season 3b finishes to get inspiration before planning on what I will write.
> 
> If you have any burning questions that MUST be answered in the epilogue, please tell me so I can squeeze it in! If you have any ideas for a sequel, or simply things you want to see, please tell me that too! Should update soonish (within a few days I'm hoping), and hopefully I can make you excited for the sequel but not dreading the hiatus ^^


	11. Epilogue

Stiles laughed loudly, his head thrown back and his white teeth shining in the carnival lights. “I can’t believe you’re surprised Scott hates you!”

Derek, seated next to Stiles on the ferris wheel and looking as grumpy as ever, continued to glare. “I haven’t done anything to him.”

“Dude, from the way Scott tells it, _everyone_ hates you in that class.” Stiles paused a minute to think, taking a bite of bright blue cotton candy. “Besides maybe the few who have a crush on you, but even those admit you have the hardest of asses. In both senses of the meaning, naturally.”

Derek huffed. It wasn’t like he had expected for one of the staff to quit in the middle of the school year (his Guide had become ill, so it wasn’t like Derek was blaming the man) and then to take over an already ongoing class. And he definitely didn’t expect the prior instructor to have gone so soft, his pathetic excuse for a training regime glanced over and then discarded before Derek began to write his own. “Not my fault that they’re not willing to put in the work. If they go out in the field with less than the best training-”

“Oh my god!” Stiles interrupted, the shocked hand over his heart impeded by a small, black plush wolf (he had demanded that Derek win it for him, since there were no squirrels). “Don’t tell me you actually care? That it’s all a big show of tough love?” He had that grin that Derek loved and loathed in equal measure, the one he only wore when he was being a smart ass, which was far too often for Derek’s liking.

“So surprising that I have a heart?” Derek muttered as he crossed his arms and looked out onto the carnival below. Stiles had been the one that wanted to come, and, like every Sentinel ever, Derek had been useless against a request from his Guide. Besides, the kid had apparently wanted to go last year, but, because of the Tower’s restrictions, couldn’t.

“It just springs up on me all the sudden, and I don’t really know how to take it.” Stiles stuffed the last bit of cotton candy in his face, only to wrinkle his nose in disgust and swallow to say, “Did I tell you that one of the kidnappers, Danny, is in my class now?”

Derek rolled his eyes. He wasn’t happy at all that the Tower had decided to integrate what were clearly criminals within the school system, even if they had gone through ‘rehabilitation’ and were being heavily watched. They had made a right choice of not putting the Sentinel, the twin named Ethan if Derek remembered correctly, in his class. No way he would have been able to be unbiased towards one of the men responsible for two stolen Guides and emotional trauma for plenty of students, including himself and his Guide.

“And Lydia is interviewing with one of the twins!” Stiles exclaimed, waving his plus wolf towards the sky. “Allison told me this morning! Oh, yeah, I was no good, but angry psycho dudes are apparently right up her alley! Though she did bond with Jackson, so that was definitely an indication-”

Derek broke Stiles away from his rant with a kiss, leaning forward to harden it before breaking away, staring into the teen’s heavy lidded eyes. “Let’s not talk about that,” Derek grunted, panting slightly. Kissing Stiles always left him a little light headed, their bond making even the lightest of touches cause the Sentinel’s muscles to grow lax, while his blood began to boil. They told him the effects would slowly lose their intensity over time, but he wasn’t sure that was possible.

“Oh, is someone jealous?” Stiles cooned. He licked his lips, which had tasted of sugary blueberries, his smile confident. “I think I just got some great talk for the bedroom then…”

Before Derek could retort in his usual deadpan manner, masking the actual excitement of Stiles growing more confident in sex (his teachers had been right in that the Guide was a fast learner), they were interrupted by Derek’s phone going off.

Stiles raised a brow but didn’t protest when Derek checked to see the caller I.D., a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows at Derek’s confused frown as he rushed to answer the call.

“Sentinel Hale?” came Victoria Argent’s voice from the other end.

“Speaking,” Derek confirmed, having no idea why the LA Chief of Police would be calling him.

“I have some news concerning the kidnapping case you took part of,” Argent continued, her voice professional.

Derek’s brow wrinkled. “Did you not receive my report that I’ll be staying in Beacon Hills for the next year, until my Guide’s graduation?” He was, technically, not a part of the police force in LA, and thus should not be getting information on any case before it became public knowledge.

“This is not directed towards the case, though soon we’ll be releasing a statement that we were able to retrieve both Guides and capture many of the key members of the smuggling ring,” Argent continued, her voice remaining neutral. It most likely wasn’t their department that had taken them down, but rather federal agents, so no need for her to take pride in the fact. “The ring was centered in South Brazil, and we were able to find records of the organization. Several Guides who had been previously named missing or dead are suddenly popping up, and there’s one that I think you will take special interest in.”

Derek’s heart began to race, and the hand holding his phone clenched. The voice of the crowd below roared in his ears, the lights suddenly threatening to blind him, the scent of fried foods and human sweat drowning his senses-

Stiles’ hand, still sticky from cotton candy, slipped silently into his own. Derek closed his eyes with a grateful sigh, his senses quickly calming. “And what name would that be?”

But Argent, who of course knew of Kate (her disowned sister-in-law), said something unexpected then, her voice soft, almost even kind. “Your sister, Cora Hale.”

Derek’s eyes snapped back open. “What?”

Suddenly he was lost, confusion overcoming him, and the only thing he could still feel was Stiles’ warm hand in his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have ANY ideas for the next installment, or anything you definitely, 100% want to see, please comment! I really want your guys feedback and suggestions! Also would love critiques of how you liked the installation as a whole ^^ Please subscribed to the series (or to me) for notifications of the next installation. I'll probably wait until after 3b finishes, but meanwhile I will work on other things!
> 
> Thanks for reading >w

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing gets me writing faster than comments, questions, suggestions and edits! <3
> 
> Come check out my [Tumblr](http://ember-to-ash.tumblr.com/), which is basically entirely dedicated to my fics, snippets, questions, prompts, and Sterek fanart I reblog!


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